


False Colours

by CallistoNicol



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), sifki - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Magical Regency AU, because what's Loki without his magic?, regency au, romance with a hefty dose of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22457665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallistoNicol/pseuds/CallistoNicol
Summary: Lady Frigga is in debt, and the only way out is for Lord Thor to make a suitably somber match with Lady Sif. However, Thor has gone missing, and Lady Frigga is in a tizzy. How can Thor prove himself worthy of Sif if he’s not around? By having the recently returned Loki disguise himself and woo Sif in Thor’s place, of course!
Relationships: Loki/Sif (Marvel), sifki
Comments: 46
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a magical regency AU. I stole the idea from Eienvine, who apparently stole it from newredshoes, so thank you to newredshoes. Your influence continues on!
> 
> This story is based off the book False Colours by Georgette Heyer, which is my favorite of her novels, and one of my favorite books. If you like this fic even a little bit, go read the book it's based on. It's a thousand times better than my meager offering, and you won't regret it.
> 
> Many thanks to Eienvine for beta reading, to summerof16 for making me post this (I am very aware of my deadline, and I met it!), and to the tumblr anon who kindly pushed me to post.

Loki stared in annoyance at the family townhome sometime after midnight. On some level he knew it was irrational to be annoyed that a door wasn’t left unlocked for him when no one expected him home from his arcane magic expedition for months, maybe even years, but shouldn’t Mother, at least, have sensed his impending arrival? She had the uncanny ability of knowing when one of her sons was returning. 

Then again, perhaps her senses were dulled, which could coincide with the tug he’d felt from his protection spell on Thor, the reason he was home in the first place. As soon as Loki learned how to cast protection spells, he’d twined a complicated one around each member of his family so he would always know when they were in danger. It wasn’t guaranteed that he could do anything to allay the danger, but his response time improved immeasurably, allowing him to render more immediate assistance. It was how he’d known of Odin’s death long before Mother’s missive intercepted him on the road, bringing him home in time for the funeral. 

Not that he was pleased to be present for Odin’s funeral, as the man was odious at the best of times and insufferable at the worst, but Frigga felt some affection for her overbearing husband, and Loki felt great affection for his mother, fueling his desire to be present for her. Were it not for her, he would have been happy to miss his father’s funeral. It was a celebration of a life Loki loathed, culminating in the reading of the will, proving once and for all that Thor was the favored child as Odin made no provision for Loki’s upkeep save a small allowance to be doled out in pitiful amounts over the next decade. 

At least Thor wasn’t allowed access to the family fortune until he achieved the age of thirty or made a suitably somber marriage to a woman of good breeding. Under normal circumstances the principal would become available to the heir upon reaching his majority, but Odin, either showing unusual wisdom or showcasing his usual vindictiveness, had placed harsher stipulations on Thor, meaning Thor had to practice economy in a sad attempt to curb his lavish expenses as the income from the estates, though suitable, did not compare to the family fortune. Loki felt moderately poorly for his brother’s inability to access his principal, but mostly Loki enjoyed watching Thor attempt sums. 

With that cheerful thought, Loki set about finding an open window so he could scale the wall to gain entrance. Whatever danger he’d felt coming from Thor couldn’t be such a disaster, or their mother would have sent word. Surely whatever it was had passed, and Thor would be tucked safely in his bed, giving Loki adequate ammunition to berate his brother for interrupting Loki's magical quest. 

There, the window to Thor’s room. Shrugging out of his coat of green superfine and removing his travelling boots, sure-footed Loki found purchase in the bricks and made quick work of climbing to Thor’s third-storey bedroom. 

Fully expecting Thor to be asleep, Loki popped through the window and landed heavily on the bed. To his disappointment, there was no grunt of displeasure from his elder brother, but rather the soft sigh of depressing feathers. Ah. Thor was not home. That explained the open window; his elder brother had planned to climb up here himself after burning his midnight oil. 

Brushing himself off and hoping fervently he wasn’t now covered in his brother’s musky scent, Loki tiptoed to the door and opened it, cursing Einherjar, their ineffective butler, for not keeping the hinges well-oiled. Loki did not make it three steps before Frigga’s door across the hallway opened and his mother emerged, candelabra in hand. “Who’s there?” she asked sharply. Her eyes landed on Loki, and a smile broke across her face. “Darling!” she cried, nearly dropping the candlestick as she hurried to embrace her son. “What are you doing here, my son? We did not expect your return for some time yet! I am, of course, glad to see you, whatever the reason. Where is your coat? Your boots? Loki! Were you set upon by a highwayman and left with naught but your waistcoat and breeches?”

“Hardly, Mother,” Loki said with amusement. “I’ve left my accoutrements on the front stair. They hindered my ability to access Thor’s window.”

“If your coats weren’t so well-fitted, you could lift your arms and commit clandestine acts while fully dressed,” Frigga chided. “But that is neither here nor there. What brings you home, my son?”

“Thor, of course.”

“Has he sent you word?”

“He tugged at my protection spell.”

Frigga brushed that off. “Thor revels in danger, my son. I have the fullest confidence that he is out carousing, and whatever danger you sensed was a mere trifle.”

“Then where is my esteemed brother, Mother?”

“Out on an errand on my behalf.” She frowned. “Though he was meant to return two days prior, and has yet to make entrance.” She brightened. “I’m positive he’ll arrive home tomorrow. He has an engagement, you see, and must be present for the dinner party thrown for him by Lady Sif’s family.”

“Lady Sif?” Loki asked. “I’m not familiar with the name.”

“Oh, but you haven’t been around for the news! Your brother has offered for Lady Sif.” Frigga beamed so brightly, Loki knew she wasn’t funning him, but Thor? _Marriage_? Sooner the sun fail to rise than Thor be entrapped by the bonds of matrimony!

“How has this come to be?” he demanded. “Thor is too much in the petticoat line to succumb to marriage!”

Frigga bit her lip. “I fear it’s my fault. Come into my room, darling, and I’ll tell you the tale.” Once settled on Frigga’s bed, she proceeded. “You see, my son, I’ve found myself somewhat on the rocks.”

“You?” Loki interjected. “That cannot be. Our father took care of your debts before he passed. It was his duty as husband.” The Earl of Asgard, called Allfather, wasn’t a warm parent, but he took seriously duties owed to his tenants and his family, and despite the occasional coldness between the Earl and his wife, once he took sick he made certain to pay off her debts. Judging from Mother’s face, however, it was clear Father hadn’t taken care of everything. “Mother,” Loki said warningly.

“He did pay them,” Frigga rushed to assure him, “at least all the ones I remembered to tell him about. There were simply so many, and as I continued to find receipts, I couldn’t bear to pass them onto your father. He was such a strict man, and I knew he would frown with disapproval. He was so gifted at using internal magic that he did not understand the necessity of external magical sources, and I’d liefer have him die with my debts unpaid than admit just how much of his money was spent on procuring pivotal magical items.”

Loki wanted to chide his mother, but it was difficult to do when he could not dispute her assessment of his father. The man was difficult in the best of times, and being on the receiving end of his ire more often than not, Loki was intimately acquainted with how difficult it was to get the Allfather to listen. “How, Mother, does your debt result in Thor being gone? Surely your quarterly allowance is more than sufficient to pay your bills.” Frigga’s look of chagrin altered Loki’s thinking. “The income from Asgard?” She continued to look guilty, and Loki’s eyes widened. “Mother, just how much do you owe?”

“I truly thought it a trifling amount, and was certain I could put it off until your brother came into his principal, but I’ve been putting of my creditors for so long that certain debts have come due. Not wanting to trouble Thor, I desired to trade one of the family magical artifacts. You see, this isn’t the first time I’ve had a loan come due, and have before offered family artifacts in exchange for erasing my debt.”

“Mother--” Loki said, shocked, but she spoke right over him.

“It is what it is, my son, and there’s no use pretending otherwise. I often found your father too unwilling to bend with regards to my supply of herbs and ingredients, and had to foot my own bill. I never sold any of the Odinson family artifacts, but several of the Jorddottir artifacts have gone to trade. I couldn’t let anyone know, of course, so I had each one copied. None but myself ever tried to access their magical powers, so no one ever knew my vault was full of copies. 

“It just so happens that the artifact I sold this time was Dromi, one of the three chains once used to hold Fenrir, which I forgot I had already copied some seven years ago. When I came to the realization, I had no other option but to involve Thor for _I_ could not track down a man of business.

“Thor left a week and a half ago to retrieve Dromi, then was to stop at Asgard for a spot of business with the steward, and be back with days to spare before his supper with Lady Sif and her family. He can’t miss the event; it will be seen as crying off, and that could be disastrous for his reputation and that of Lady Sif.”

Falling backward on the bed, Loki said, “I have so many questions, Mother.”

“It is one of your least endearing qualities.”

He rolled his eyes. “First. To whom did you offer Dromi? Perhaps if he is a man of reason, we can negotiate the return of Dromi in exchange for something else.”

“Thor proposed that already, my son, but Lord Malekith is not interested in assisting the family of Odin. He won’t return it for anything less than its full value, which is far more than it’s worth since it’s just a simple copy.”

Loki groaned. Of all the men she had to associate with, why that toad-eater? He loathed the Odinson family and would happily see them burn. If Thor couldn’t buy back that artifact before Malekith discovered it was a mere copy, there was going to be scandal. 

“I know it’s unsavory, Mother, but did you appeal to Heimdall?” Heimdall had been Father’s man of business and the executor of his well, and therefore was responsible for the family fortune until Thor came of age. He had high expectations and did not approve of the levity with which Thor lived his life, so under normal circumstances there would be no enticing him to relinquish his tight hold on the principal. However, given the extenuating circumstances, Loki was reasonably sure the man could be called upon to open the coffers enough to cover Mother’s expenses. Moderately sure. Considered it a possibility. 

He sighed. Heimdall would open the coffers for nothing less than to aid in the prevention of Ragnarok. The mere possibility of scandal was not enough to move the man. 

“I see you’ve answered your own question,” Frigga said. “I did consider it, but the circumstances would have to be dire indeed to compel Heimdall to proffer assistance.”

Curse the former earl and his insistence on having competent associates. Curse him for failing to fulfill his duty to his wife. Curse him for indulging Thor’s lavish lifestyle, then having an abrupt change of mind shortly before death, thereby preventing Thor from accessing his principal. And curse him for not offering Loki a fortune, which he would immediately use to cover Mother’s debts. 

Something tickled the back of Loki’s mind. “Why did Thor offer for Lady Sif?”

“That, too, is because of me, though I heartily approve. Sif is a wonderful young woman.”

“If you like her, that all but guarantees Thor doesn’t. Ah. That means she is sensible and somber and a perfect fit for Father’s requirements for a bride. If Thor weds her, he’ll have access to his fortune and therefore can pay off your debt. Does he find her pleasant at all, Mother, or is Thor throwing away his happiness?”

“It doesn’t matter. If he has not returned in time for supper tonight, it will all be for nothing.”

Loki debated the merits of further pursuing this line of conversation. If he knew too much, he would undoubtedly get involved, taking his brother’s problems upon himself, and that was precisely what he wished to avoid. If he knew too little, he’d unintentionally devote entirely too much brain power trying to ascertain the rest. Curse his family; if they would simply take care of their own problems, he could live his life in peace.

But where was the excitement in that?

“Tell me why.”

“Lady Sif’s father, Admiral Tyr, is back from sea. Thor must secure his goodwill if he wishes to follow through with marrying the admiral’s daughter. He is said to have a tendre for his only child, and has relied upon her to run the house since the death of her mother while she was still in the schoolroom. His standards are exacting and he will not part with his daughter to any unworthy candidate.” That knocks Thor out of the running, Loki thought unkindly. “He was to impress the admiral tonight to solidify and make official the engagement.”

“And true to form, Thor is nowhere to be found.”

“That is most uncivil of you.”

Loki gestured about the room. “Is he hiding behind a curtain?”

“He’ll be here.”

“With a concussion and a broken limb or two, to justify triggering my protection spell and then not be here to greet me. Tell me, Mother, what will you do if my esteemed elder brother does not arrive in time to attend his dinner party?”

Frigga looked uncertain, but then her eyes focused and a conniving smile replaced her woe. “You are a master illusionist,” she said. 

“Yes.”

“And are quite gifted at impersonating others.” 

Remembering the many instances as children where he got Thor into loads of trouble for impersonating him, Loki could only smile. His personal favourite was when he imitated a snake and bit his brother, leaving a mark Thor still bore. 

His thoughts coalesced and he realized what his mother was insinuating. “No.”

“Yes,” Frigga countered.

“Mother, you’re being absurd! It’s one thing to magic myself in front of our tutors or our father, and another entirely to do it in front of Thor’s intended!”

“It’s only for one night, and it will save your brother from shame! You know he will be ever so grateful--and that’s only if he doesn’t arrive home in time to attend himself. I know your brother can be quite the dandy, but he isn’t one to shirk his responsibilities. Loki, dearest, help your brother out just this once.”

What made one gifted at illusions was understanding the small details that make up one’s persona, and Loki hadn’t been around his brother enough in recent years to copy Thor’s adult mannerisms. If Lady Sif was at all familiar with her betrothed, a thousand tiny tics could give Loki away. 

But if she was as somber and sensible as Mother claimed she was, then surely this Lady Sif was not too familiar with Thor and would not notice anything amiss. 

There were a thousand ways this could go wrong, which should be worrisome...but Loki had to admit, if only to himself, that he would not mind watching Thor’s life explode in flames for once.

“Fine, but if Thor has not returned by supper’s end, you and I shall retreat to Asgard and spend the remainder of the season in the country. I can get away with imitating him once, Mother, but if we continue the masquerade we will surely be discovered, which would harm all parties involved.”

Frigga reached over to stroke Loki’s dark hair, so different from Thor’s golden locks. How two such different specimens came from the same parents was anyone’s guess. At least when he reverted to his own form, Loki would not have to worry about Thor’s actions being associated with his own person. He would never be mistaken for his brother, and none who looked upon them would even guess they were related. 

With a blink of his eyes, Loki took on the image of his brother as he had been when last Loki laid eyes upon him at their father’s funeral. It was quick work to update the glamour to match Thor’s current toilet, and soon Frigga was nodding in approval. 

With a gleam in his eye, Loki bade his mother goodnight and went downstairs to retrieve his luggage, coat, and boots. He found he was looking forward to an evening with Thor’s lady love. If she was too horrid, Loki felt little compunction about insinuating Thor was besotted with her. If she proved to be equal to his brother, Loki wasn’t above sowing unwanted animosity. Either would serve his brother right for bringing Loki home early and then saddling him with the job of meeting the in-laws. 

Whistling cheerfully, Loki took himself to bed--Thor’s room. Might as well start the illusion now. He’d always wanted to sleep in the master bedroom; best take advantage while he could.

*

Thor, of course, did not return in time, leaving Loki to attend the family dinner. At least the illusion covered clothing, meaning Loki was free to wear his own well-fitted costume instead of swimming in Thor’s larger clothes, though he found the illusion worked best when his outfit more closely matched that he was trying to project, meaning he looked more sloppy than was his wont. Even so, his illusion was so complete not even Mother would be able to tell them apart, were she not privy to Loki’s chicanery. 

“Do remember you’re trying to woo Sif, not scare her away,” Mother said, brushing imaginary dust off Loki’s shoulders (as if he was so poor an illusionist as to not maintain absolute perfection in his appearance). 

“Of course, Mother,” Loki lied, enjoying the attention. 

“I mean it,” she said. “If Lady Sif cries off because of your actions tonight, I’ll repay my debts by exchanging you for them.”

Loki raised both brows. “Bravo, m’lady,” he said to the dowager. “Your threat manages to impress even me.”

“I mean it,” she warned. “Do well by our Thor this night.”

“Of course, Mother.”

The carriage took him three streets over to Admiral Tyr’s home, soft music from the pianoforte wafting through the partially cracked window. Fingering his blonde tresses, Loki wondered what sort of creature he was about to meet beyond the front door. 

Hopping out of the carriage, Loki imitated his brother’s loping stride as he carried himself to the door, knocking firmly on the large brass knocker. A stately butler answered the door, gazing upon Loki like gazing upon horse excrement in the street. Loki put on his most charming smile and smoothly extended the man his card. 

“I know who you are,” the man sniffed, plucking the card from Loki without reading it. Loki swallowed his surprise; he was unaware it was possible to meet Thor and not worship at his feet. He liked the butler already. 

Before further dialogue could be exchanged, an enchanting creature with hair the colour of midnight and a gown of deepest scarlet hurried into the foyer, brows creased with worry. She curtsied to Loki, not quite low enough befitting one of his station-- _Thor’s_ station--and he couldn’t help but admire a young woman who wasn’t in the habit of toad-eating his brother. “I need to speak with you,” she said, her voice pleasantly low. Lady Sif, he assumed, matching her appearance to his mother’s description. “You should be aware--”

She was interrupted by a deep, commanding voice. “Sif! Don’t let the boy tarry by the door! Bring him in and introduce him.”

A pinched look overtook Sif’s face. “Set aside time later to speak to me alone,” she whispered, leading Loki into the parlour. 

A quick sweep of the room helped Loki identify the assembled party. The tall, imposing man with a severe face but kind eyes was the admiral, as indicated by his navy colours. Beside him, clutching his arm, was an enchanting young woman who appeared to be of age with Lady Sif. Her eyes kept darting between Loki and his supposed betrothed. She must be the admiral’s new wife. This morning over breakfast Frigga had informed him of Lady Sif’s family situation. Her mother had passed when she was young, leaving her in the sole care of her father. The admiral, then a lieutenant, had apparently loved his wife deeply and swore never to remarry, but changed his tune upon meeting the enchanting young Miss Idunn. Once he set his cap at her, it did not take long for wedding bells to ring.

He knew little else about the family situation, but the way Lady Tyr was eyeing Lady Sif, Loki strongly supposed she was eager for her stepdaughter to leave the nest. 

In the corner stood two young men, one Loki knew and one he did not. The blonde gentleman with merry eyes was known to Loki, as he had been friends with Thor since boyhood. Fandral was of the dandy set, his shirt points nearly reaching his eyes and his breeches almost too tight to sit. A ridiculous fashion, but Fandral managed to make it look less silly than most. Loki would have to avoid contact with him, as Fandral was familiar enough with both Odinson brothers to rat out Loki, should he pay close enough attention. He wasn’t blessed with an overabundance of intelligence, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep distance. 

Next to Fandral stood a gentleman with dark hair like Loki’s and the tilted eyes of the Vanir. Foreign, then, though the way he tilted his head toward Fandral and shared a confidence indicated familiarity, so this wasn’t their first meeting. He held himself like a warrior, and Loki wondered if he was from the admiral’s circle of friends. 

Lady Sif made introductions, naming the Vanir Sir Hogun. Loki gave Thor’s customary boisterous greeting, then turned his attention to the admiral, the sole reason for the dinner party. Loki needed to make a good enough impression that the man wouldn’t object to Thor’s suit, though the admiral would be a fool to reject an offer from the Allfather. His darling daughter couldn’t make a better match. 

“I am glad to see you safely returned home,” Loki said. “I know Lady Sif is pleased to see you, and that in turn pleases me.” There. Let the man think this a love match. If Thor wished to give any other impression, he should have arrived home in time to make it.

“My daughter speaks well of you,” the admiral said. “High praise, considering few men are her equal.” 

A challenge. Beneath his illusion, Loki grinned in delight. “Surely, an esteemed earl more than measures up.”

The admiral harrumphed. “Your father did, perhaps, but talk of you paints a different picture.”

Excellent; Admiral Tyr knew the truth of Thor’s character. Loki respected a man who could cut through gossip to find the heart of a man. Of course, that did little to assist him in portraying his brother as worthy of the admiral’s daughter, but it assuaged Loki’s worries that Thor was marrying into a family of toadies. “Rumours and gossip,” Loki said dismissively. “The measure of a man is best taken through experience.”

“Thor studied military history at Tactical School, Father,” Lady Sif said. “He holds great political aspirations.”

Since when? Last Loki knew, his brother aspired to be the best at holding his liquor, a distasteful habit that Odin indulged only because he thought Thor should eventually grow out of it. If Loki ever came home as drunk as Thor, the lecture he’d receive would be demeaning at best, abusive at worst, and would result in a cold shoulder from his father. But perhaps his brother had been much changed since their father’s funeral; it’s not like Loki stayed put long enough to find out. 

Then again, perhaps Lady Sif was making up a future suitable enough to garner her father’s approval, and Thor would swallow his own tongue if he heard of it. 

“Politics is for men who wish to hold strings while never realizing theirs are being tightly pulled by the whims of the crown,” the admiral said. “‘Tis far better to be a man of action.”

Lady Sif patiently rolled her eyes. “Thor is a man of action,” she said. “You know this.” That was the second time Lady Sif had used Thor’s given name unadorned; they must be closer than Loki first assumed. 

“A man of impulsive action,” the admiral said disparagingly, and Loki could only agree. Thor liked to _do_ , but paid little attention to the consequences of his actions. It made sense that he’d had his fortune tied up in legal means; he was lucky their father had passed it on at all, though Odin’s long-standing affection for his elder son gave Thor more leeway than he deserved. 

Where was Thor? Why wasn’t he here to navigate these waters?

Before Loki could make a response, dinner was announced and Loki escorted the Lady Sif to her seat. 

“You handled my father well,” Lady Sif murmured as they took their seats. “You held your own; usually suitors are so intimidated by him they swallow their tongues.”

“I don’t think I uttered above 20 words,” Loki replied. “Not much of a showing on my part.”

“Yet you aren’t quaking in fear.”

“He hardly holds a candle to my own father,” Loki said dryly, thinking of the many times as a child he had quivered in fear before Odin. She eyed him speculatively, and Loki wondered what Thor had told her about Odin, and wished he was maintaining a silent illusion so he wasn’t responsible for information his brother may or may not have said. 

The men of the party outnumbered the women, so Loki found himself seated next to Fandral. When the Lady Sif turned to speak to her father, Fandral took the opportunity to speak with Loki. “Tell me, Allfather, have you thought more on my proposition?”

What proposition was this? Loki hoped it was of little importance; he didn’t mind speaking for his brother, but didn’t want to have to remember everything said tonight. “I haven’t made a decision yet,” he said.

“Come now, it’s been three weeks, and you promised a response Monday past! Your brain isn’t so large that you need to spend time mulling it over.”

Loki had to swallow his chuckle of agreement. “I’ve been preoccupied,” he said, letting his eyes trail toward Lady Sif. “Come ‘round day after tomorrow and I’ll give you a response.”

“I’m holding you to it!” Fandral said cheerfully. “No getting out of this one!”

If Thor wasn’t back by then, Loki was agreeing to whatever Fandral wanted, and hoped it would be miserable for his brother. 

After dinner, Loki was saved from private conversation with Admiral Tyr over cigars by the presence of Fandral and Sir Hogun, and when they rejoined the ladies, Lady Tyr set up a game of whist involving herself, the admiral, and the other two gentlemen. Taking advantage of the moment alone, Lady Sif led him to the corner under the pretense of admiring a pastoral painting.

“I haven’t entirely made up my mind to accept your offer,” Lady Sif told him once the game of whist covered their conversation. 

“I thought it was a done deal,” Loki said, genuinely surprised. Thor may often be a blundering idiot, but he was good-hearted, handsome, and rich--at least, so far as any female knew. If Thor offered for a woman, it was assumed she would leap at the chance to accept. 

Who was this creature who had doubts about marrying his brother? Loki liked her all the more for it.

“You know I didn’t properly accept,” Lady Sif said, annoyed. “I told you when you offered that I needed to think on it. It may not be a love match, but I am not so poorly positioned that I must accept any offer that comes my way.”

“I apologise for the insinuation,” Loki said sincerely, respecting Lady Sif more with every word. “What need I do to convince you?” 

“I am unsure. I have some concerns. Something I heard at Sigyn’s party last week--”

But her concerns remained unvoiced as a seventh person entered the room and announced his presence. “Beg pardon, I didn’t realize we had company.”

Loki knew that voice. Whirling around, he saw Heimdall, dressed for supper, shaking hands with the admiral. What was his father’s man of business doing at the Tyr residence?

Lady Sif did not seem confused, for her face lit with a smile as she moved to greet the man. With that level of admiration in her eyes, Loki no longer questioned her hesitancy over accepting Thor’s offer. Clearly she loved Heimdall. What, then, was holding her back from marrying him? Perhaps it was his station in life. If Admiral Tyr was uncertain about allowing an earl to wed his daughter, he surely would have qualms about accepting a man of business into the family.

And what was Thor thinking, trying to impress Heimdall with his somber marriage, when the prospective bride was in love with the man of business? And judging by returned affection, it was not a one-sided love. Heimdall would not be impressed with Thor’s marriage to the girl; if anything, he would continue to hold out the fortune merely out of spite. 

Loki shook his head. When next he saw his brother, he would give him what for, then leave immediately to return to his arcane quest. He had no desire to be drawn into Thor’s petty intrigues. Perhaps he would spirit Mother away with him, leaving Thor alone to deal with her debts.

Loki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and the minute movement drew Heimdall’s attention. The man stilled, his pleasant expression being replaced by a polite scowl. Lifting his right hand, Loki waggled his fingers, enjoying the stiffening of Heimdall’s shoulders. Thor would kill him for this later, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. 

“My Lord,” Heimdall said, striding over to greet who he thought was Thor. “I did not expect to find you here this evening.”

“I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be,” Loki replied, trailing his eyes to Lady Sif. If it was possible, Heimdall went even stiffer. 

“I see,” the man said.

“Lovely, isn’t she?”

“Excessively so,” Heimdall answered through clenched teeth. “Deserving only of the best.”

Loki smiled widely. “I can only agree.”

Thor was going to murder him. He couldn’t wait. 

*

It was close to noon before Loki emerged from Thor’s bedchamber. He’d arrived home well after midnight to a quiet house and promptly fell into bed. By the time he awoke and dressed, the sun was high. He entered the breakfast room to find Einherjar with a frown of disapproval on his face. The problem with old servants was they’d seen their masters in diapers, and thus held no compunctions about expressing opinions. Einherjar disapproved of wasting the day away, and even his deep love for the family could not silence his opinions. 

“Where’s my mother?” Loki asked, hoping to head off a lecture. 

“Out calling. She desires a meeting with you upon her return.”

Frigga, ever the picture of decorum, kept the family in good social standing by making all the requisite calls. Loki, who did not care for most of his acquaintances, made it a point to never visit anyone unless explicitly invited to do so, and even then under duress. Thor enjoyed it more, but was too often in his cups to be of any real use. Odin used to make perfunctory visits as required, but only to maintain relations, not to create new ones. If it weren’t for Frigga, Loki was sure the family would have fallen into social ruin years ago. 

He hoped one of her calls was not to the Tyr family. He’d rather give his own report than have the admiral or Lady Sif report on Heimdall’s presence, let alone Loki’s insistence upon nettling him. Not wise, he knew, considering he needed the man pleased in order to give over control of Thor’s fortune, but Loki did not much care for his father’s man of business and tried to avoid seeing him socially--usually an easy feat, as they were hardly social equals. 

“Did anyone suspect you last evening?” Einherjar asked as he served Loki a side of cold ham.

The other problem with old servants: they knew you well enough to see past illusions. Loki really ought to spend more time studying his brother’s mannerisms. 

“Not to my awareness, but then, it would hardly do to call me out and cause a spectacle. If the admiral or his daughter suspected, they said naught.” Einherjar merely nodded. “Any chance that old brother of mine made an appearance whilst I slept?”

“No, sir. Our lord has yet to make an appearance.” Einherjar frowned. “I do hope he hasn’t come to any trouble.”

“Thor? Trouble?” Loki snorted, and received a cold look for his attempt at humor. “I’m sure he’s fine, Einherjar, and if he isn’t, there’s not a lot we can do about it, now, is there?” That did little to placate the old man, but Loki felt it sound advice. Thor was well known for his ability to get himself into, and then back out of, scrapes. 

Loki ignored the niggle in the back of his mind reminding him his protection spell for Thor had gone almost completely still. The last time a protection line went still, Father died. 

He really needed to update the spell, fine tune it a bit so he could better tell if one of his family was all right and not just in danger. He’d work on Mother when she returned, and Thor, if he returned. 

Before Frigga returned, Fandral appeared, despite Loki’s advice to come the day after. He’d planned to be away to Asgard by then, but now he had to face his brother’s old friend. Hurriedly donning his Thor illusion, Loki marched off toward the visiting parlour, where Einherjar had left the man.

“Thor!” Fandral cried jovially upon spying his supposed friend. “I know you told me to come on the morrow’s morrow, but I found I couldn’t wait another moment. Do tell me you’ve considered my offer and are in favour of it.”

Life would be so much more pleasant if everyone did what they were told. “Remind me, again, why I should.”

“It’s the bargain of the century! Gleaming chestnut hair, fine ankles, and light on her feet.”

Beneath the illusion, Loki blinked. Was Fandral selling him on the qualities of a lady of the night? And knowing he (well, Thor) had an understanding with Lady Sif! This was indecorous even for Thor’s cronies. “Let me guess, ample about the chest,” he said dryly.

“No, not particularly,” Fandral said. “I’d never offer you a creature who wasn’t fit. She’s a solid sixteen hands, too; measured her myself.”

And immediately Loki felt foolish. Fandral was talking about a horse. “I haven’t the blunt at the moment,” Loki said. “I’m planning to swing by Asgard and attend to business, but when I return I’ll draw a draft from the bank.”

“You won’t regret this beauty. Pureblooded Arabian! Gorgeous creature, enough to make a man rethink matrimony.” He winked lasciviously at Loki, then laughed. “Of course, Sif will make an excellent bride. Never would have pegged you as the sort to settle down in your youth, but she’s the best possible choice. Loyal, pretty as a flower, but strong as good steel, and willing to ignore a paramour.” 

Yes, because even wedded, no one expected Thor to be loyal to his bride. Loki had to work hard to hide the distaste in his eyes. “I’ll send a message when I intend to return,” he said, moving toward the door. Thankfully, Fandral followed. 

“How long do you plan to be gone?”

Until Thor returns, Loki thought. He had no desire to impersonate his brother for one minute longer. He had his own life to attend to. “It depends on my mother,” he said, half truthfully. “She’s coming with me.”

“Lud, then you’ll never return. The dowager hates being in town!”

“I’ll return,” Loki assured him, then, with a stroke of brilliance, directed Fandral towards Thor’s office. Securing a scrap of parchment, he scribbled his best imitation of Thor’s hand and gave it to Fandral. “Take my vowels.”

“Not like you to commit a promise to paper,” Fandral grinned, making it disappear. “I think Sif is already working her wiles.”

Shortly after Fandral left, Frigga returned. Loki was waiting for her in the foyer, and hurried her upstairs into her bedroom where they could not be overheard nor interrupted. “Your scheme is giving me a headache,” he informed her. “Already today Fandral called on business, and I had to act in Thor’s stead.”

“Do not lie to me and claim you disliked the pretense,” Frigga said. “I’ve no doubt you’ve concocted some mischief in his name.”

“Well, of course; I would not be Loki were I to act honourably on behalf of my brother.” Frigga affectionately chucked him under the chin. “All the same, Mother, I’ve no desire to live Thor’s life. I must away to Asgard immediately to avoid any further entanglements, and you are coming with me.”

“Of course I am, dear, but here’s the thing.” She bit her lip, and Loki groaned, knowing whatever was coming would do him no good. “I went calling upon Lady Sif this morning to see how she viewed last night’s dinner, and in so doing, I was accosted by Lady Tyr, who all but invited Sif to join us at Asgard.”

That was terrible indeed, but Frigga was not one to follow a lead. “And you let this happen?” he demanded, not believing it for one moment.

“I could not say no! It would be the picture of indecency, as Mr. Heimdall was present and had the most suspicious air. I would have refused in a heartbeat otherwise, all to assure your own comfort, but I could not claim to be delighted at the prospect of her joining the family if I wasn’t willing to allow her to accompany us.”

Curse that man, Loki thought viciously. So much for the respite he’d anticipated at Asgard. “How long did you give her leave to join us?”

“Indefinitely,” Frigga said faintly. “But don’t worry, my son! I am certain Thor will join us soon, and you may put an end to this masquerade!”

“He’d better, or I may end up marrying his bride on his behalf,” Loki threatened. A speculative light entered Frigga’s eyes, so he hurried to say, “Do not get ideas into your head, Mother! It does not signify!”

“Of course, my son.” 

Loki sighed. “Are we to await her arrival before departing?”

“I am to travel with her, but you may go on ahead and alert the servants. They will be in such a fuss at our unexpected arrival, and with guests! I must write to your aunt, as well, and encourage her to come visit so Sif does not feel singled out.”

“I beg you, don’t,” Loki said, thinking of his aged aunt, who was truly Frigga’s aunt. Aunt Eir believed all sorts of absurd health fashions, and was most vexatious in her repeated attempts to convince her acquaintances to participate in her newfangled and scientifically unfounded notions. “Leave her convalescing in Alfheim, where the waters do her the most good.”

“It cannot be helped, darling. I already promised her a visit to Asgard this year, and this way you may be much occupied with Lady Sif and won’t have to entertain your aunt.”

If I was still questing for magic, I wouldn’t have to entertain her at all, he thought. Next time he left home, Loki wasn’t returning for anything less than his mother’s funeral. 

“This is dangerous water we’re treading. I can only imitate Thor for so long before my person shines through, and if Lady Sif isn’t a simpleton she’ll be able to tell the difference when Thor returns.”

“We can tell her Thor hit his head, leaving his personality much altered.”

“I’ll actually hit him in the head, and give the story truth.”

“It may come to that,” Frigga said with a smile. 

And so Loki left servants in charge of packing Thor’s things and transporting them with his mother while he collected his own light luggage, attached it to his horse, and journeyed toward Asgard. The family estate lay east of Town, and Loki would be there by nightfall. The dowager and her guest would arrive the next day, giving Housekeeper adequate time to prepare their rooms. 

And hopefully, if the Norns smiled on Loki, Thor would soon arrive. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The household would never say they were displeased to have the family return, but tight lips and narrow eyes alerted Loki to their vexation. “A little notice would not have gone amiss,” Housekeeper said.

“If I’d had it, I would have sent it,” Loki said, still under his Thor illusion. There was no point in letting the servants know which brother was really under their roof if he had to continue shamming Lady Sif. Tongues wagged, and servant tongues wagged more than most. The best way to keep a secret was to keep it secret, which meant the fewer people who were aware of his masquerade, the better. Einherjar was already one person more than Loki felt comfortable with. 

Thank goodness Thor’s valet had recently retired and not yet been replaced, or Loki would be in a pickle when it came to dressing. His illusion could only hold up under so much physical scrutiny, and a man who had his hands on every aspect of one’s being would quickly find where reality and illusion did not meet. 

That did leave Loki to perfect his brother’s toilet; thankfully he was more of a dandy than ever Thor had been, making Thor’s wardrobe easy enough to manage, if a bit too dreary for Loki’s tastes. There were so many interesting knots to be tied, yet Thor settled for barely draping his cravat about his neck. 

“We are having guests,” Loki informed the servants. “Mother and Lady Sif will arrive tomorrow, and some time after that, Aunt Eir will be joining us as well. And any other unfortunates Mother lands upon; she does like her social gatherings to be large.”

“Yes, m’lord,” Housekeeper and Cook muttered, giving him quite the look. He’d have to check his supper for poison; he wouldn’t put it past them.

“You were only ‘ere a week past,” the under-butler complained. “You could ‘ave said something then.”

“The decision was made yesterday,” Loki retorted. “Now you know. I recommend you set about preparing; there isn’t much time before they arrive.”

The staff withheld their grumbles, at least until out of earshot, but Loki had already forgotten them. Thor was here last week; it was the first indication of Thor’s whereabouts Loki had received since returning. Where had his brother gone?

Unfortunately, as he was wearing his brother’s face, he couldn’t have it put about that he was looking for himself. With his luck, his subterfuge would quickly be discovered and he’d be gaoled for imitating an earl. People quickly lost their sense of humour when it came to impersonating the peerage, and he’d have a devil of a time escaping their well-meaning incarceration. 

Thor was known for sitting too deeply in his cups; perhaps Loki could have it spread about that on his last journey, he’d been so plastered he forgot which inn he put up in, and was looking for some trinket he’d misplaced. 

When Einherjar arrived tomorrow, Loki would set him upon the task of spreading the rumour, and hopefully something would come of it.

A cold supper arrived from the kitchens, Cook’s way of letting him know he’d interfered in her meal planning, though whether she was upset he’d arrived unannounced or upset he had company coming was unclear. Either way, Loki knew better than to stoke her ire with impending guests, so he offered no complaint and ate in silence before retiring to bed. 

In the morning he was awoken by the cold nose of Fenrir, the house greyhound named after the mighty wolf Odin once slayed. “You do know you’re licking the wrong master,” Loki said, stroking the dog’s ears. Fenrir panted and rolled over, exposing his belly. “Fearsome creature indeed. Can you not tell the difference between us, or do you not care, so long as you are cosseted?” In answer the dog licked Loki’s hand. Affection warmed Loki’s belly. “Lovely creature,” he murmured. “You are not properly appreciated here.” Fenrir eyed him dolefully, clearly in agreement, making Loki laugh. “Come, dog, let us awake and breakfast for the hens will soon arrive to peck at us.”

Breakfast was a grander affair than last night’s supper had been, with bacon, eggs, gravy, and kidney pie. Feeding Fenrir liberally, Loki partook much himself, then spirited himself away to his old study in the attic. Odin hadn’t understood Loki’s need for a sequestered space to study far away from the boisterousness of Thor, and therefore landed him in the attic. Intended to be a slight, the sting soon left Loki once he fell in love with his attic corner, a spot so removed from the hustle and bustle of the household that not even the servants ventured here, leaving his books, materials, and organization untouched. It was on the shady side of dusty, but a quick cleaning spell put the room to rights, leaving Loki feeling at home. 

Running his hands over his bookshelf of magical tomes, he selected one on transfiguration. It was unwise to practice alchemy as there were well-documented long-term effects on those who dabbled in the forbidden arts, but modifying an existing item was not the same as producing gold from thin air. It was not guaranteed to succeed, but for the time being Loki was trapped here, if he did not wish to leave his brother unfound and his mother in disgrace, and had the time to devote to the study of altering mundane items into precious metals, one potential solution to his mother’s debts. 

Not a perfect solution, of course; if one of the palace mages discovered counterfeit coin in the Realm, there would be repercussions. But that was a problem for after he perfected the process. And if he got caught. 

*

Einherjar was the one to finally find Loki. That old man had always had an uncanny ability to find Loki, no doubt a leftover sixth sense from childhood when Loki was into mischief more often than not. “Your guests have arrived,” the old man said stiffly. Loki pushed his hair back from his brow, wondering how much dust he was wearing. Cleaning spells didn’t prevent more from accumulating, and he’d been working for hours. 

“That is obvious by your presence,” Loki informed him. Einherjar didn’t twitch a muscle, his way of rolling his eyes. Loki grinned sweetly at him. “I’ll wash up and be down to greet them forthwith.”

“Very good, sir,” Einherjar said, still stiff, and exited the tiny attic room. 

Downstairs, freshly illusioned in whatever Thor claimed was fashionable, Loki was surprised to find the Volstaggs accompanying his mother and Lady Sif. “Thor!” Volstagg boomed, coming over to slap Loki on the back. Volstagg, who was built like a small mountain, meant the gesture as a show of friendship, but it felt like Loki had taken a fall off his horse. Gritting his teeth under the illusion, he reminded himself that Volstagg and Thor were old, close friends, and magicking fleas into his clothes would only give Loki away. 

“I’m pleased to see you,” Loki said, “but was unaware you were coming.” This he directed at his mother, who smiled brightly.

“When the Volstaggs popped in for an unexpected visit, I simply knew they must join the party,” Frigga said, her eyes darting quickly to Sif as if to say they could help keep her occupied. True though that may be, it simply added to the number of people Loki had to convince that he was Thor. Worse, Volstagg and Thor were close, opening many more opportunities for Loki to be exposed. 

“You may tell Housekeeper and Cook,” Loki sweetly told her.

Frigga waved a hand. “Einherjar has seen to it already,” she said. “A full house! We haven’t had this many guests here since, well, probably since you and your brother were both boys. What fun we’ll have!”

“We can start by showing them to their rooms, should they wish to rest after their journey,” Loki said, twitching his fingers toward the footmen. 

“Oh, lud, no,” Mrs Volstagg said. “We’re quite invigorated after our journey! I’d rather have a tour of the house, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Frigga said, clapping her hands together. “We’ll make it into a group outing! My son and I have enough stories to keep you all occupied until it is time to dress for dinner.”

“Beg pardon, my lady,” Lady Sif interrupted, “but I’d like to bow out. Thor promised me a stroll in the gardens, and I’d like to take advantage of the fine weather.”

Multiple sets of scheming eyes turned toward the supposed lovebirds, the Volstaggs with barely contained smirks, no doubt expecting Loki to make love to Lady Sif. This was precisely the situation he planned to avoid by retreating to Asgard, and now he was meant to stroll through the gardens with a woman who no doubt wanted to cling to his arm and hear sweet nothings whispered in her ear?

Where was his fool brother? 

Lady Sif slipped her arm through his, though he did not offer it, and he had to move quickly to conceal from the rest of the party that she was dragging him through the door. Desperate for a romantic rendezvous, was she? Disappointment was about to be her bedmate.

Lady Sif did not speak until they were deep in the gardens, well concealed from the house. Loki held his peace, waiting for her to begin this tete-a-tete. Once they were out of view, she yanked her arm away from him and moved several paces away. Immediately Loki reassessed Thor’s relationship with her. “I’m sorry we did not have a moment alone the other night at my father’s dinner party,” she began, looking straight at him, showing none of the demure maiden he’d expected. “I know the evening was meant to solidify our engagement, prove to my father that you were a worthy match, but I’m still having second thoughts and I’m not sure I want to accept your offer.”

Well, now, this was unexpected. Despite her words at the dinner party, he hadn’t thought her serious in her intentions to end the relationship. “Have I done aught to offend you?” he asked.

“You could never offend me,” she said, sounding amused. “I understand the circumstances compelling both of us to move forward with this match. You need a somber marriage to convince Heimdall to release your principal, even if you won’t tell me what you are trying to purchase that the income from your estates isn’t sufficient, and I need to leave my father’s house before Idunn drives me mad.”

Another piece of the puzzle fit into place. Though he hadn’t given conscious voice to the thought, Loki had wondered what would possess a seemingly sensible girl to accept Thor’s suit, considering his reputation was neither sterling nor secret. An agreement where both parties benefitted made much more sense and explained Lady Sif’s role, though now he wondered at her hesitation. “Have you rethought Idunn’s influence?” 

“Oh, no,” Lady Sif said heartily. “That woman is insipid and sees little of value in the world beyond having a youthful, pretty face. Handing the household over to her and assuming my rightful role as child is chafing just as miserably as it was when I first entertained your offer. No, my situation is not altered. My perception of my situation has. I thought I would leap at the first offer of marriage to escape from my father’s house, but as I ponder over your offer… Thor, I know I said I would look the other way when you entertained your dalliances, but I don’t think I have it in me to allow a wandering eye. Should I so much as suspect my husband of being unfaithful, I would find the nearest sharp implement and insert it into his eye.”

Again, Loki reassessed the woman standing in front of him. Upon first meeting he assumed her the same as any female of his acquaintance, concerned with parties, fashion, and making a suitable match; she wasn’t an heiress, so to receive an offer from an earl must have tilted her whole world. Now he was beginning to see the admiral’s influence. Perhaps Tyr had not longed for a son because he treated his daughter like one. She mentioned stabbing him as casually as another female would mention purchasing new kid gloves. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” Lady Sif said, annoyed. “You know me.”

Not in the slightest, but now Loki very much wanted to. Those were dangerous waters, however; if he knew her too well, he might resent Thor for being in a position to marry her. It was best to keep his distance. 

However, if he kept his distance, Lady Sif would for certain end whatever understanding existed between her and his brother, and Loki knew how desperately Thor needed to make a suitable marriage to access his principal and pay their mother’s debts. 

Once again, he hated his family for complicating his life. 

“Don’t cry off just yet, Lady Sif,” he said. “Hold off until the end of your visit to Asgard. None outside our circle of acquaintance is aware of the offer, so none need know we’re still considering. If at the end of your stay you wish to part ways, we will do so, but upon closer acquaintance, mayhaps I may change your mind--and my philandering ways.”

She looked at him searchingly. “Call me Sif,” she said at length.

“Sif,” Loki said, wondering at her boldness in being so intimate.

She nodded. “I won’t cry off just yet, but I’m not inclined to change my mind.”

And Loki seriously doubted Thor would remain faithful to a lady he didn’t love. Thankfully, that wasn’t his concern. 

On an impulse Loki stuck out his hand, and Sif shook it without hesitation, a bargain struck.

Once hands were released, Sif said, “And now I must apologize for intruding upon your home. It was most indecorous of Idunn to bully Frigga into extending an invitation.”

“Nonsense. Mother is pleased to have you with us and extended the invitation of her own doing.”

“Thank you, but we both know that is a lie. With Heimdall standing guard, Lady Frigga could hardly turn Idunn away. I am only grateful my stepmother is unaware why her scheme was successful, for if she knew the truth behind your offer, we’d be wed in a sennight.”

“Lud, no, what a disaster that would be,” Loki said without thinking.

“I see you are not so vested in marriage, either.”

The deuced masquerade made it so he could not explain he was more affronted at marrying her on Thor’s behalf, thereby binding himself to her, when it was Thor who should be in this beastly situation. What a lark that would be--thinking one was wedded to the Earl of Allfather, only to wake up next to the trickster brother! It tickled Loki’s sense of fun, and he might engage in such a scheme just to see the looks on everyone’s faces, except that marriage was binding and he’d liefer be stabbed by a Jotun than find himself tied to a woman he barely knew. 

“I am,” he assured her, “but it does take some adjusting to.” Where the bloody hell was Thor? He should be the principal actor on this stage!

Sif peered at the sky. “I think we’ve been alone long enough for your guests to be convinced that we’re making love, so we may retire indoors.” Threading her arm through his, she once again dragged him to her desired destination. She was no milksop, that was for certain! How Thor had landed on a woman like her to wed, Loki was sure he didn’t know. 

Inside, Sif abandoned him (praise be!), so Loki sought out Einherjar to devise a plan to find Thor. Rumours needed to be started, and none were so effective at spreading them as those belowstairs. 

Einherjar immediately approved of the plan, no doubt eager to have his master returned. He’d always preferred Thor to Loki, which suited Loki just fine. He did not need an overeager butler staring over his shoulder! Thor was welcome to that particular trial. 

Frigga came to his (Thor’s) room as he was finishing his toilet for dinner. She looked resplendent in a gown of pale blue, pearls decorating her neck. “You look lovely,” he told her, kissing her cheek. 

“Thank you, darling.” She leaned against his bedpost, admiring his form. “I have the two most handsome sons in all the Realm,” Frigga proclaimed. “I do believe there isn’t a man alive who can hold a candle to the figure you cut.”

“I quite agree,” Loki said, wincing as he draped his cravat about his neck. Thor’s toilet was an abomination to fashion everywhere. “At least, I agree when I am wearing my own costume. Thor could benefit from a tailor.”

“Your brother is handsome in his own way, even if his wardrobe leaves much to be desired.” 

Loki snorted. “You are being too kind, Mother. But you did not come to pass judgment over Thor’s toilet; how are you planning to complicate the masquerade now?”

“I merely wish to know how your walk with Lady Sif was. She was speculative and quiet when she joined our house tour; have you falsely promised her a life of love and devotion, or committed some other mischief?”

“She is uncertain about accepting Thor’s suit. I merely convinced her to delay crying off until after leaving Asgard.”

“How civil of you!”

“Civil nothing, Mother. I fully expect Thor to return by then, and he may make of this mess what he will while I return to my quest!”

Moving forward, Frigga gently smoothed down a stray hair on Loki’s head. “Say what you will, beloved, but you have Thor’s best interest at heart.”

“I have _my_ best interest at heart. If Thor cannot secure a proper marriage, I’ll no doubt be called upon to assist in facing Lord Malekith, and I’ve no interest in participating in conflict not of my making!”

“Not even to assist your aged mother?”

“Pah! Aged, my foot! You’re still young and beautiful, Mother, and could easily make a new conquest, should you so desire.”

She smiled lightly. “I do not desire. Marriage to your father was enough tribulation for one life! I now wish to enjoy dinner parties and dances until I die, the monotony of such amusements broken only by bouts of holding the grandchildren you two will provide.”

“Best of luck in acquiring grandchildren!”

“Then I shall dote on Thor’s children and exclaim over your spells!”

“Far more realistic, Mother. Come; our guests await us.”

*

Dinner was taxing. 

Loki was seated at the head of the table with Lady Sif to his right and Mrs Volstagg to his left. Sif made exactly as much polite conversation as civility dictated, then spent the rest of the meal having a quiet conversation with Volstagg that Loki could not overhear. Mrs Volstagg made insinuation upon insinuation about his nonexistent relationship with Sif, and since Sif would not acknowledge him, he was forced to endure the woman’s matchmaking schemes. And, since he had to pretend to be Thor instead of himself, he had to withhold cutting remarks that would put Mrs Volstagg in her place. 

By the time Loki collapsed in bed, he was exhausted. Deuced women! He was in this farce in the first place because of a woman. Never again would he let Frigga talk him into a grand masquerade!

Loki woke early and went straight to the stables. A morning ride would keep him clear of any interfering females.

Alas--this was not meant to be. As he was leading his horse, Tesseract, out of his stall, Loki ran into Lady Sif, dressed in a riding habit and leading a fearsome black stallion. “My lord,” she said, inclining her head. “It appears we happened upon the same idea.”

Swallowing his irritation, Loki said, “Would you care to join me? Company may improve the quality of my ride.”

She eyed him in amusement. “A most civil offer, but I doubt its truth.”

“Let me make correction: _you_ will improve the quality of my ride.”

Now she laughed. “You are quizzing me, my lord; I know you’d rather be alone, but fear I’ll cry off if you snub me already.” As she spoke, Loki’s irritation melted away entirely, leaving him wondering at the feeling. 

“I always enjoy a good verbal spar, and you, my lady, are proving a worthy opponent.”

“You merely like that I am not a toady. It must be a new experience, a single female not crawling over you for favours. Of course, I’ve already had an offer of marriage, so there is little left you can offer me.”

“I enjoy your straightforward manner of speech. It is refreshing. Please, join me. It will give us a chance to strengthen our acquaintance.” To Loki’s amazement, he actually meant it. 

“I’ll acquiesce, but only because the sour look in your eyes has disappeared.” 

They took off at a quick pace, Lady Sif leading the charge. What a curious female, to not even affect bowing to his superior station in life. Loki liked it. “Tell me, Lady Sif; do you always take the lead?”

“Sif,” she corrected him, “and yes. I was never reined in as I should have been, with my mother dead while I was still in the nursery and my father away at sea most of my youth. When he finally made landfall and spent more than a week in my presence, he encouraged his headstrong daughter, handing me control over the household while I was yet in the schoolroom. Being in the Navy, Father has little patience for simpering and wiles, which suited me just as well for I prefer plain speaking. It leaves little room for misunderstanding.”

“You must be oft accused of being uncivil.”

“On the contrary; I know how to bend to societal expectations. One cannot survive socially if one refuses to learn how to behave properly.”

“You are proposing an act?”

“When necessary. Sometimes one must play a part in order to achieve a desired outcome.”

How well he knew the truth of that! “Do you not find it tiresome to so often act in a manner contrary to your own nature?”

“Not at all. Behaving properly _is_ part of my nature. Being authoritative with the servants does not make me false when I am submissive to my father. Opposites though they are, both are part of my nature. Different circumstances call for different behaviours, and I adjust accordingly.”

“Some may call that manipulation.”

“I call it life.”

Loki smiled a genuine smile. “I could not agree more, Sif.”

*

Their ride lasted well into the morning, so it was time for nuncheon when they returned. Frigga and Mrs Volstagg had walked down to the village, and Volstagg had disappeared somewhere in the house, leaving Loki and Sif alone to eat. “It’s such a lovely day out; could we not pack a picnic and eat in the garden?” she asked.

“A capital idea,” Loki started, but was interrupted by Einherjar. 

“M’lord, your bailiff has arrived.”

“Have Cook send him a plate, and keep him occupied until nuncheon is over.”

“Ahem,” Einherjar coughed. Rolling his eyes, Loki looked at the man.

“What?”

“Apparently you promised Mr Haldor an audience when last you were here, which was last week. It is not wise to put off one’s bailiff for too long. If I may say.”

As Loki recalled, Haldor was a stubborn man who felt no compunction about arriving slowly to a summons from his lord. If Loki were master here, he’d teach Haldor a thing or two about station. 

But he wasn’t master here, and Thor tried to put up a reasonable front of caring for his tenants and his land, so Loki must make the same effort. “By your leave, Sif, I will have to bow out of our picnic. Another time.”

“I look forward to it.”

Haldor was in the book room, standing respectfully beside Thor’s desk. A small boy stood next to him, solemn eyes staring up at Loki as he clutched a large leather-bound book. Greetings were exchanged, and Loki sat. Haldor introduced his son, who was labelled as being clever with sums, and together they reported on the estate. The income was more than respectable, the tenant farmers were happy with their lot, and all fences and roads that needed mending were seen to under Haldor’s meticulous care. 

“I’ve only got one complaint, m’lord,” Haldor said, knuckling his forehead. “Your phaeton. I know you like to drive it about, but leaving it in the northernmost wheat field for a week? It’s irresponsible, is what, and killing the crops to boot. The farmers work too hard for that level of disrespect. I wouldn’t say nothin’, m’lord, but I know yeh’ve always been fair and would want it reported on.”

“Many apologies, Haldor; I’ll have it retrieved forthwith.” Excitement bubbled up. Thor’s phaeton! Of course it hadn’t been reported missing, as it was assumed Thor had driven it back to Town, but if it was located on Asgard’s lands, surely Thor was nearby! Ushering Haldor and son out the door, Loki rang for Einherjar. 

“Thor’s phaeton has been found. Please inform my mother that I’m off to collect it and see if it offers any clues about Thor’s location. Send ahead to the stables to have my horse readied.”

“Yes, m’lord. Very good, m’lord.”

It was amazing how much derision Einherjar could inject into such small words. “This ought to bring joy to your gloomy existence,” Loki told him. “We may soon locate my brother and you may be reunited with your precious master.”

“A relief, I’m sure.”

Loki dismissed the man. Servants like him were precisely why Loki chose to travel alone.

Unfortunately, the phaeton offered no clues as to Thor’s whereabouts. It had rained since the vehicle was abandoned, washing away any tracks his brother might have made. The phaeton was in good condition, nothing to indicate it had been in an accident or suffered other ill use. In fact, it looked like Thor had driven it to the field, parked it, and left it there. 

He saw no evidence of dying crops, contrary to Haldor’s words, which made Loki wonder if Haldor had been sincere about the rest of the estate. Did Thor ever verify the bailiff’s report? Had Odin? Regardless, Loki would look into it tomorrow during his morning ride. 

Back at the house, Frigga had returned from her expedition. “It was wonderfully diverting,” she confided as Loki led her into the study. “I’ve been so concerned with Thor’s whereabouts that I forgot to enjoy life’s little pleasures. Mrs Volstagg was most obliging and popped into all the shops.”

“Mother, tell me you didn’t buy anything!”

“Nothing pin money won’t cover, my son--I’m aware I am under the hatches, and it would not signify to tip the double! But even a debtor may enjoy window shopping.” 

“Promise me you’ll let me know if your stores of herbs are low, and I’ll replenish your supply.”

“Of course. Now tell me what is so important as to provoke this clandestine meeting.” He quickly summarized the day’s discoveries, leaving out the bit about questioning Haldor’s competence. “If his phaeton is in one piece, Thor must be, as well,” she said excitedly.

“The two do not equate.”

“If something malicious had overtaken him, there would be some evidence on his phaeton.”

“Not if he parked the phaeton, took a short walk, and was abducted.”

“And without evidence of such, I choose to maintain a positive outlook. There is no need for tears until there is a need for tears.”

“Wise words, Mother, but it might behoove us to consider the worst.”

“Do as you wish, but I shall abstain,” and she proceeded to recount her morning’s adventure, punishment, Loki was sure, for daring to dampen her mood. He listened for a quarter of an hour before excusing himself to take refuge in the attic. Attempting the arduous task of transfiguring nonmetal matter into metal was far preferable to engaging in further conversation! 

*

At dinner, Lady Sif was much more attentive than the previous evening. “I’ve spent the entire afternoon wondering about your meeting with the bailiff,” she confessed over soup. “Was his report satisfactory? Is he fulfilling his duties adequately? Has the estate of Asgard fallen prey to intrigue, or is everything perfectly mundane?”

“All of the above, Sif! His report was most satisfactory, he fulfills his duties admirably, and everything is perfectly mundane, in turn giving rise to intrigue, for what bailiff so perfectly executes his charge?”

“You suspect him of falsehood?”

“I suspect nothing; I know.”

“He provided evidence?”

“Unintentionally. He reminded me I’d left my phaeton in the wheat field, thereby killing the farmer’s hard work, but when I went to retrieve my vehicle, I found the exact opposite. I’ve become suspicious and intend to investigate his claims--hopefully to verify them, but my hope does not exceed my pinky finger.”

“Are you riding again in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“With the intent of checking on his report?”

“Yes.”

“Then if it does not displease you, I should very much like to join your rounds.”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure.” Surprisingly, he meant it. 

“What’s this?” Mrs Volstagg interrupted. “Did I hear the two lovebirds plan a secret outing?”

“It is not secret if we are discussing it over supper,” Sif said lightly. “Thor needs to check the veracity of his bailiff’s claims, and I asked to accompany him. You may join us, Mrs Volstagg, and enliven our party. We ride at dawn.”

“Dearie me, no!” Mrs Volstagg exclaimed. “I try to never rise before nine of the clock; it is not good for the constitution, you know.”

“We are _not_ riding at dawn,” Loki muttered toward Sif. “I try not to rise before nine o’clock, either!”

“We can inform Mrs Volstagg of that, if you wish,” Sif whispered sweetly.

“Minx. I’ll do no such thing.”

The quiet look she gave him through her lashes indicated that was precisely the response she’d expected.

*

“We should have invited Volstagg to join us,” Lady Sif suggested as they led their horses out of the stables the next morning. Sif did not require a mounting block, gracefully and effortlessly mounting her horse. Loki was not half so graceful; he usually travelled by teleportation, so while he was competent on a beast, he did not ride--or mount--one like it was second nature. 

“He was far too bosky last night to wake before noon,” Loki said, scrambling aboard Tesseract while Sif was facing away. “I admit, I’m impressed at your horsemanship. Your bulky skirts do nothing to deter from your natural grace.”

“You should see my performance in breeches,” Sif said lightly, casting a smile over her shoulder. “Father was determined I should always be able to escape from an attacker, regardless of my costume. I’ve drilled for hours in mounting and dismounting horses in a variety of outfits. I’ve found it a most useful skill.”

“Do you run away from vagrants often?” 

“Daily,” she teased. “I did have to carry an emergency message once, and my state of dress did not interfere with my errand, justifying my father’s tutelage. We should invite Volstagg to ride with us tomorrow.”

Loki was pleased that she intended to ride with him again, but was not inclined to include one in their party who was intimate with Thor. There were entirely too many questions Loki could not answer, and would rather not have to make up silly excuses to avoid conversation. “Perhaps, or perhaps we could enjoy the morning air without an interloper,” he countered.

She smiled. “Perhaps. Tell me, what are we looking for?”

“We’re starting with the bridge that crosses the creek near the northernmost boundary. I’ve been assured the crack in its foundation was taken care of; our mission is to verify this claim.”

The horses clopped along at a leisurely pace; Loki was in no rush to reach his destination. “Tell me of your brother. You do not speak often of him,” Sif said.

At last, a topic about which Loki was an expert. “Loki is deep in the magical arts. He fancies himself an illusionist.”

There was a glint in her eye as she said, “Fancies?”

“Well, he does have the skill to support the claim,” Loki said, enjoying bragging on himself. “He’s always off hither and yon searching up bits of arcane magic or potion ingredients.”

“By himself, I presume? A lonely existence, I imagine.”

“He thrives on the solitude. It keeps him from the toad-eaters and ingrates of the world.”

“Which we have in abundance!” she heartily agreed. “But what of his family? Friends? Does he not miss them when he is gone?”

“Not particularly,” Loki said honestly. “Mother, a bit. Me, less so. Friends? He has none. Loki’s always been a prickly sort--cock-sure and clever, which makes it difficult to befriend him. I’ve never noticed him lacking for it, though. If he complains, I’ve never heard.” 

“Not all complaints are spoken aloud.”

“Some because they do not exist.”

“Look, a duck!” she cried, ending that branch of conversation. They paused to admire the creature, watching it waddle along its chosen path. “They’re so magnificent, and so delicious,” Sif sighed. “What a perfect creature.”

Loki laughed. “Magnificent? A duck?”

“Marvelous little creatures. I love to watch them emerge from a pond and see the water roll off their feathers. And then I like to eat them.”

Loki was highly amused. “An interesting choice.”

“Is it?” she asked, gently kicking her horse into a walk. “They’re beautiful and practical, the perfect combination. I like pretty things.”

They continued discussing pretty things until they reached the northernmost bridge. Dismounting, Loki tied Tesseract to a tree, then went to inspect the bridge’s foundation. He was no expert in bridge construction, but it did not take long to find several cracks in the stone foundation. He tested the strength of the bridge by pushing at the stones, then walking along the bridge alone and then with Sif. It held well enough, but the bridge stones creaked alarmingly. “I don’t think it’s in any immediate danger, but this needs to be seen to,” Loki commented, making a note in the leatherbound notebook he usually dedicated to spells.

“I wonder how much weight it would take for the bridge to fall apart,” Sif said, eyeing the structure. “Our combined weight was under the limit, but what if we added our horses? A wagon? A small regiment?”

“Are you proposing we find out?” 

The longing in her eyes was unmistakable, but she said, “I don’t suppose it would be wise, but I wonder.”

It wasn’t wise; they could get hurt, and the destruction of the bridge would impede local traffic, but now Loki wanted to find out. They wouldn’t need to acquire a wagon or a small regiment, either; with a flick of his fingers, he could easily increase their weight. It wasn’t a long-lasting spell, but it didn’t need to be; it only needed to last long enough to sate their curiosity.

Of course, to do so would reveal himself. Thor hadn’t studied an ounce of magic, declaring it far beneath him, and so lacked the requisite skill. Pity. “We shall have to construct our own bridge and run our own experiments,” Loki told her. “On a much smaller scale, of course; I think neither of us possesses the skill to make an adequate bridge that is large.”

“We could study the topic and improve our bridge,” Sif said, eyes alight with interest. “I’m certain you’ll have a useful book in your library.”

“You propose we study engineering, then endeavour to destroy our creation?”

“No only destroy it, but test the sturdiness using our own weight! We’ll be subjects in our own experiment!”

Mostly Loki liked her use of the word _we_. “Proposition accepted.”

Sif smiled at him, her eyes bright and alive. “Where to next?”

He led their horses slightly east. “A nearby stone wall that apparently crumbled last winter. Tell me, Sif: do you have any female accomplishments?”

“Many, though they are best demonstrated and not spoken of. Do you find my interest in men’s doings off-putting?”

“Hardly. I find it most refreshing, and a strong reminder that I am sadly lacking in female accomplishments.”

“That may be easily remedied. Perhaps after our bridge excursion, we could try our hand at watercolours?”

"We'll see," he said.

They visited four different sites Haldor had claimed repaired, and together deemed all four wanting. Wherever Thor’s money was going, it wasn’t into the upkeep of his estates. Loki began to wonder if Haldor’s young son was good at sums, or if he had been present as a distraction. Did Thor know he was being swindled by his bailiff, or was he oblivious? Loki sincerely hoped it was the latter, for he would hate to think poorly of his brother.

(This was not true at all; he revelled in Thor’s baseness, real or imagined, but being in the Lady Sif’s presence made him want to improve his character, so with concerted effort he tried to convince himself he did not want to think poorly of Thor.)

Detailed notes were taken and quick sketches outlined by Loki, then filled in with detail by Sif, providing a record. Loki did not have the authority to order Haldor about--if he did, he would promptly let the man go without a character--for it was one thing to imitate Thor and another entirely to act in his stead in a business capacity, but Loki was determined to have sufficient evidence to turn Thor’s head when he finally returned. 

There were several more areas Loki wanted to inspect, but the sun was getting high and it was improper to be alone with Sif for too long, not to mention leaving sites unvisited left him with another outing to go on with her, so they returned to the house, chatting about the ruin they’d seen about the estate and what Loki’s plans were to improve upon it. 

“I can get Loki or Mother to solidify the improvements by sealing them with magic,” he was saying as they reached the stables. “They’ll last longer that way.”

“They’ll last longer if you acquire a bailiff who looks after his stewardship,” Sif pointed out.

“That will be taken care of,” Loki assured her, leaving unsaid that it was Thor’s responsibility. “Thank you for your company, Sif; it made a tedious morning quite the thing. Will you join me again tomorrow? I have several more sites to visit.”

“I would love to,” she said, and did not mention inviting Volstagg. 

*

For the next three days, Loki and Sif journeyed about Thor’s estate. Once Loki’s list of prospective improvements was exhausted, they started inspecting every structure for improvements, keeping a detailed list of what they found. 

Best of all, Sif never again brought up inviting anyone to join them. 

Loki was in great danger of losing his heart to Thor’s intended, but he staved off thinking about it by lying to himself and claiming, repeatedly, that she was merely civil company. It was not his most well-crafted lie, but thankfully no one queried after their relationship for the lie would not hold up under the lightest scrutiny. The benefit, he supposed, of everyone thinking him to be Thor, was no one questioned actions that would otherwise border on being inappropriate. 

On their fourth day of examining the estate, they arrived home to find Aunt Eir in residence, looking particularly robust. According to Aunt Eir, she’d been dying for some twenty years, yet her health never wavered so much as a hair. She’d spent the better part of Odin’s funeral announcing she would surely be next, detailing her funeral and the plot of ground in the family cemetery where she wished to be interred. All around, she was insufferable.

“Thor, my boy, let me get a good look at you,” Aunt Eir said, banging her cane on the ground. Loki didn’t move close enough, so Eir grabbed at the bottom of his coat and yanked him forward, throwing him off balance so he landed on his knees directly in front of her. “You’re looking peaked, boy,” she said, brittle old fingers roaming his face. “Bonier than you should be. I have a powder for that.”

No powder would fix the fact that she had felt Loki’s bone structure beneath his Thor illusion. “Thank you, Aunt, but I’ll take my chances without the powders.” 

“I’ll have Einherjar add it to your drink,” she said, paying his refusal no heed. “Now introduce me to this enchanting creature.”

“Aunt, this is Lady Sif, Admiral Tyr’s daughter. Sif, my Aunt Eir.”

“Tyr, eh?” Eir asked, eyeing Sif. “I was acquainted with his first wife. Sweet thing, even tempered. Might still be alive if she’d been adequately leeched. Tyr recently remarried, yes? How is the new Lady Tyr?”

“Happy to be keeping house,” Sif answered, “and pleased to have me out of it for a fortnight or two!”

“It’s always hard remaining in a house you used to rule when it comes under new management,” Aunt Eir said. “I avoided that myself by having a large fortune so I could remain in my primary residence, which I was wise enough to not make the county seat. Mark my words, Lady Sif: if you marry a man with many holdings, live in a lesser house so you aren’t ousted when he inevitably dies early and passes his lands onto his heir!”

“Quality advice, ma’am,” Sif smiled. “Thor tells me you have a great understanding of medicine; I’ve been tired of late, and was wondering if you had any advice for me?”

Aunt Eir’s entire face lifted as she exclaimed, “Do I ever!” and proceeded to bore everyone with her deep knowledge of Sif’s fictional issue. 

Blessing Sif for her keen mind and willingness to sacrifice herself, Loki slipped out of the room before he could be caught in Aunt Eir’s web. The only reason anyone put up with her nonsense was her vast wealth, which had to go somewhere when she died, and no one knew to whom she would bestow it as she had no children. Best not to make an enemy of the woman who could make the family flush in the pockets for generations. Granted, that indicated Aunt Eir would eventually kick off, and at this point Loki strongly suspected her of being immortal. 

Free of obligations, Loki relocated to the attic to continue his studies in transfiguration. Casting illusions was child’s play for him, but altering the fundamental makeup of an object was proving difficult. It was a good thing his mother wasn’t relying on him to pay off her debts, because he wasn’t certain he could accomplish it in this manner. He desperately hoped Thor had managed to negotiate with Malekith, or, barring that, returned home soon in order to wed Sif, gain access to his principal, and save the family from ruin. 

And hopefully he returned soon, before Loki fell too deeply for Sif and could not let her go.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

“You’re holding it incorrectly,” Sif said for the seventh time in as many minutes.

“It is a writing implement. I am holding it like I hold a quill,” Loki replied for the seventh time.

“We aren’t writing!” Sif laughed. “I’ve told you this half a dozen times if I’ve said it once. Painting is not about control, it’s about letting inspiration flow and allowing the brush and canvas to work together to create the image. Loosen your grip.”

“If I loosen my grip, I’ll drop the brush.”

“Then drop it! Your art could benefit from you losing control.”

Loki did not have much room to make an argument, not with that abomination on his canvas Sif was attempting to convince him would turn into a beautiful painting. He was certain he’d produced greater works of art doodling as a child than he was producing now. Not even a mother--not even _his_ mother--could find an aspect to boast about. “I am not destined to be a great artist,” he announced, sliding his fingers back on the brush.

“Few of us are,” Sif said, “but we do not engage in accomplishments because we are masters, but rather because we enjoy the task.”

“I do _not_ enjoy this,” he said decidedly, making a bold green stroke in the area meant to be the field. 

They were sitting in Asgard’s apple orchard, looking out over the estate, with Fenrir sleeping at Loki’s feet. The orchard was a prime location for a watercolour landscape, Sif had informed him, and the afternoon sun made perfect lighting. Her painting was beginning to resemble Asgard, and had the potential to be worth displaying. Loki was certain his painting would end up fueling a fire.

Behind them, lounging on a blanket, were Mr and Mrs Volstagg, whose prime occupation was heckling Loki. “My oldest boy drew me a potato last fall,” Volstagg said. “Lumpy thing, full of eyes and the colour of mud. His drawing is a da Vinci compared to yours.”

Mrs Volstagg chuckled. “I believe you are giving the earl too much credit,” she cried, and Loki heartily agreed.

“One is not meant to master a new skill in one afternoon,” Sif said pleasantly. “Give him time and I’m certain his artwork will rival that of your son’s.” The Volstaggs tittered, and Loki could not begrudge them the joke. He was certain their son’s lumpy potato outshone his meager attempt at a landscape, which was looking more like a mass of seaweed. 

“Tell me, Allfather, whatever possessed you to try your hand at painting?” Mrs Volstagg asked. 

Loki jerked a thumb at Sif. “This one conned me into it.”

“I’m a regular jackanapes,” Sif said, not sounding the least bit repentant.

“She’s the most shocking of swindlers,” Loki agreed. “Takes my dignity without even the decency of colouring up.”

“Shameless,” Sif agreed. “But you altered your grip, m’lord! That pleases me immensely.”

Loki coloured up, grateful again to be hiding beneath Thor’s face. 

“These sandwiches are absolutely divine,” Mrs Volstagg said, and Loki blessed her for taking the heat off of him. “I shall have to get the recipe from your cook.”

“Good luck,” Loki told her, dabbing his brush into a darker green. “I’ve never known Cook to willingly relinquish her recipes.”

“If anyone can talk her out of it, it would be my Hilde,” Volstagg boasted. 

“Braver men have tried and failed,” Loki warned her, “but you are welcome to ask.”

“I shall, and see if I’m not successful,” Mrs Volstagg said. “Or if I’m not, perhaps I’ll set your Aunt Eir to the task! That woman is formidable, and I’ve yet to see any stand her down.”

“Lady Eir would only assist you if you convinced her the recipe was necessary to restoring your health,” Loki said. “She wouldn’t waste her time on trifles.”

“She is the picture of health,” Mrs Volstagg confessed. “I only hope I am half so hale should I be lucky enough to achieve her age!”

“She is an inspiration to us all,” Sif said diplomatically. “I like your use of blue to offset the green, Thor.”

“You are quizzing me. It looks like the lake dumped all over my canvas.” 

“You are too unkind. I can perfectly see the shape you are striving for, and a little more definition will bring the hill to light.”

“I’m beginning to think you are blind,” Loki told her, “for only a blind person could find anything redeemable in this mess.” 

“How uncivil,” Sif scolded him. “I’ve far better taste than you, I guarantee it, and I’m not prone to exaggeration.”

“Proving my point, my dear. If you could see properly, you’d never make such egregious statements about the sad mess I’ve concocted.”

She laughed at him as she continued adding strokes of paint to her image. “I think you are so used to being good at everything you touch that you have forgotten how it feels to be merely mediocre.”

Loki snorted. “What a masterful roast disguised so nicely as a compliment! You will do well in life, I should think.”

“An excellent wife she’ll make,” Volstagg said. “It’s always better to have a wife who doesn’t take you too seriously.”

“Subtle,” Loki told him, adding a dab of gold to his painting. He meant it to be the light reflecting off of something, but it looked more like a child had spit a bit of food upon the image. “How do women spend hours upon hours perfecting such dull accomplishments?” he demanded of the females present. “It cuts up my peace to imagine it!”

“Not all artists are female,” Sif chided him, “and I imagine perfecting a skill such as painting is much like your brother perfecting his magic. He no doubt sequestered himself away for hours, if not days, at a time, mastering the minutiae.” 

Loki felt thoroughly scolded; Sif was right about the time commitment it took to master sorcery. “I suppose it is commensurate with learning the craft of fighting,” Loki said, trying to remember if Thor had devoted time to much of anything other than lifting a sword or downing alcohol. 

“A craft which our Lady Sif is also familiar with,” Volstagg said. “The pair of you should go a round, sometime! Woman though she is, she’ll give you a run for you money, Allfather!”

“Yes, I’ve witnessed her besting Volstagg on multiple occasions,” Mrs Vosltagg added.

Loki stilled his brush to eye Sif appreciatively. “You’ve become a warrior, as well, my lady?” Sif did not respond, merely giving him a coquettish look. Enchanting creature. “Perhaps a demonstration is in store.”

“Perhaps,” Sif murmured, “but no more talk of it now, for you are neglecting your painting!”

“It could benefit from neglect,” Loki replied. Fenrir huffed in his sleep, seemingly agreeing, and Sif laughed.

Loki lacked the skill to finish the scene, but acquiesced to Sif’s repeated demands that he add another stroke, and another, until the party had been outside for two hours longer than initially planned, though none seemed fatigued, despite the extra hours in the sun. 

On the stroll back to the house, Sif nudged Fenrir aside and threaded her arm through Loki’s as she chatted amiably with the Volstaggs, laughing over some trick their middle son had played on the housekeeper. Loki lightly patted her arm, regretting that she was not his, and increasingly wondering if he could find some way to prevent her from marrying his brother without ruining Thor’s plans to eliminate their mother’s debts.

At the house, Frigga met them at the door. “Son, Aunt Eir and I have been speaking--”

“Pray save us from her opinions!” Loki muttered, and Sif pinched him. 

“--and we’ve come upon the capital idea of throwing a ball!”

“At this time of year?” Loki asked, mind focused on Sif’s arm still tucked in his. “Most everyone is still in Town for the season!”

“The season is fast coming to an end,” Mrs Volstagg put in her two cents. “Time it appropriately, and enough families will have returned to allow for a sizeable party.”

“Precisely!” Frigga said, clapping her hands together. “It will give us adequate time to order new dresses and come up with an appropriate theme!” And make any announcements about a family engagement went without saying, though why Frigga imagined there would be good news to share was beyond him when the brother Sif should be marrying was still nowhere to be found. 

It had been several days since the last news of Thor’s whereabouts, and Loki had done little since in the search for his brother. He supposed he should care more about the missing earl, but the moment Thor returned, Loki’s affair with his potential sister-in-law would come to an end, and he was not quite ready to throw in the hat.

He sincerely hoped that when Sif learned of his duplicity she would still speak to him. The only thing worse than watching her marry Thor would be her never speaking to him again.

“Plan it if you wish, Mother,” Loki said, silently praying she would remember economy as she made plans, “but leave me out of it!”

“I’ll assist you any way I can, ma’am,” Sif said, at last removing her arm from Loki’s. “I have a fair hand and plenty of experience writing Father’s invitations.”

“I was so hoping you’d say that,” Frigga said, moving forward to secure Sif’s arm in hers, “for I’ve always longed to have assistance in planning one of our balls. What a delight it will be to have company! Come, we must begin planning at once. My son, see that her affects are returned to her room.”

They swept off, heads bowed together as they discussed decorations and themes for the ball.

“A ball is an excellent stage to make formal announcements,” Volstagg said, seemingly to thin air. “Don’t you agree, my dear?”

“It’s where our engagement was formalized,” Mrs Volstagg said, guiding her husband toward the gardens. “Ah, young love!”

No one in this house is subtle, Loki thought wryly as he collected Sif’s painting supplies.

*

The next morning, Loki escorted Sif to the breakfast room after their morning ride. They’d spent the ride discussing his poor attempts at painting, intermingled with her bright words of encouragement, resulting in Loki foolishly promising to try again. He only agreed to guarantee more time in her presence; so long as she was there to accompany him, he would willingly commit the entirety of Asgard to canvas, and do so repeatedly just to ensure her presence. 

Their ride was cut short when Tesseract threw a shoe, and even the time spent walking back to the stables did not prevent them from arriving in the breakfast room while there were other occupants. Aunt Eir sat at the head of the table, her plate full of kidney pie, while she perused the paper. Frigga was just pushing back from the table when her eyes landed on the pair of them, a smile brightening her face. “There you two are!” she cried. “We were just discussing your penchant for early morning rides.”

“And how too much sun can result in the quakes,” Aunt Eir interjected. “Make sure you wear your wide-brimmed hat, Lady Sif, and don’t let your escort convince you to take it off! You do take a groom with you? Good; a good groom can help calm the nerves when a horse rears, you know. It’s most unbecoming to have a bout of nerves with an audience!”

Loki knew quite a few women who would disagree with that statement, but thankfully, Sif was not one of them. “We take every precaution with our health,” he assured Aunt Eir as he heaped a plate high with bacon and kidneys. 

“Not every precaution,” Eir harrumphed, “else you would not ride at all. Horses are dangerous, you know!”

“Thank you for the warning,” Sif said gravely from Frigga’s side. “You are most courteous to care for our wellbeing.”

“Anything interesting in the papers?” Loki interrupted before Eir could begin a lecture on the perils of horseback riding.

“I only read the socials,” Aunt Eir said. “It doesn’t do to know too much about the world; it’s bad for the constitution and upsets the air of any room. There’s nothing to report yet, though I haven’t finished. It’s good to keep up with the comings and goings of the peerage; makes it easier to avoid the ninnies.”

“Quality advice,” Sif said, laughter in her eyes. Loki had to duck his head lest Aunt Eir notice he was laughing at her.

“Sif, dear,” Frigga said, “when you are finished with your breakfast, please join me in the Blue Saloon. I have an idea about the ball I’d like to discuss with you.”

“I’ll join you promptly.”

After breakfast Loki retired to his attic, but wasn’t there long before Einherjar found him. “My lord,” Einherjar said, an ounce of unexpected emotion in his voice.

“You’re looking unusually mawkish,” Loki said, and Einherjar narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “There, that’s the dour expression I’m used to. Tell me, my good servant, what you need.”

Without a word Einherjar produced the paper tucked underneath his arm, previously unnoticed, and handed it to Loki. The paper was folded back to the announcements, the center announcement circled. “The Lady Eir discovered what she deemed a ‘most distressing passage,’ and insisted it immediately be brought to your attention.”

Wondering what vapours or powders he was about to be inundated with, Loki took the paper and read:

_Lady Sif, daughter of Admiral Tyr,_

_Has removed to Asgard for the duration of the summer_

_To visit the Earl of Asgard and the Dowager Countess_

_Good News is shortly expected_

“The audacity,” Loki said, shocked. “Who would have the impertinence to write such an advertisement when nothing had been formally announced? Has the Lady Sif seen this?”

“I highly doubt it. I came straight to you at her ladyship’s behest.” 

Loki’s Thor illusion fell into place as he stomped out of the attic, absolutely incensed at the writer’s effrontery. Someone’s head would roll for this.

Sif and Frigga jumped as Loki burst into the Blue Saloon, slamming the _Gazette_ on the writing desk. “Have you seen this?” he demanded, both women turning to see what he pointed at.

Sif’s face drained of colour as she read. “Idunn,” she said. 

“Your stepmother?”

“Who else? She is so desperate to have me out of the house, she has prematurely announced something she has no business announcing. Allfather, Dowager Countess, please accept my deepest apologies on behalf of my stepmother.”

“It is hardly your fault,” Frigga said compassionately.

“I will write her at once, declaring the impropriety of her actions and severely censuring her.”

Loki was tempted to pen his own response, but knew it would serve no purpose other than to stir the pot. “See that you do,” he said shortly. “And tell her a written apology would not be remiss.” 

“My son, do not take your anger out on our guest,” Frigga admonished.

“No, no, my lady,” Sif said, “he is correct to be upset with me. The actions of one family member reflect on all.”

Thinking of Odin’s ill behaviour toward his family, Loki collected himself with a deep breath. Thankfully Odin’s poor attitude had not been widely witnessed, but Loki should hate to be judged by his father’s actions. “I do apologize, Sif,” he said. “Mother is right; you are not at fault, regardless of the poor behaviour of your stepmother! I do not wish this incident to come between us. A harshly-worded letter in your hand will be sufficient, and we shall put the incident behind us.”

“You are too kind,” Sif murmured. “If you will both excuse me, I will pen the missive immediately.”

“A well-bred girl,” Frigga remarked once the door was closed behind Sif. “Let us all be thankful her new mother had no part in her rearing!”

“Do we need to take action, Mother?” Loki asked.

“It would not be wise. To respond would be to give validity to the assertions. We shall instead remain silent.”

“In turn bringing shame to Idunn for submitting so shocking an announcement to the _Gazette_.” He sat down heavily on an overstuffed chair. “Though I do hope somewhere Thor sees the paper and it prompts him to return home! I’m quite finished with this hoax and wish to once again wear my own face.”

“Have you heard anything from him?” Frigga asked anxiously. “It’s been long enough that I have started to worry for your brother. Surely he is not so inconsiderate as to abandon us without a by your leave when he is the one who offered for Lady Sif!”

“ _Started_ to worry? Mother, have you not been concerned that he’s been missing for weeks and no one has heard from him?”

“I trust my son, but this period of disappearance has been too long!”

“I shall renew my efforts to find him.”

Frigga reached over, clutching Loki’s arm. “You don’t suppose he caught up to Lord Malekith, pled our cause, and was called out? Thor never could turn down a challenge. He could be lying dead in a field somewhere, all in a mad attempt to protect my honour!” 

“No,” Loki said bluntly. “Not even Malekith is so feckless as to kill Thor and not send us word.”

“I do hope you are right.”

*

Sif had Loki frank her letter before day’s end, and he hoped that would be the last of it.

He should have known better than to hope.

Two days after the _Gazette_ ran the shocking announcement, Einherjar interrupted a game of chess with Sif to announce Loki had a visitor waiting in the parlour. 

“Tell them I am not home.”

“I believe you need to take this interview,” Einherjar intoned, giving Loki a significant look. 

“Anyone we know?” Volstagg asked from the couch where he was reading a tome on military history. 

“It is not for me to say,” Einherjar said. 

“Go,” Sif said. “Volstagg will finish our game.”

Not words Loki wanted to hear, but so long as he was pretending to be his brother, he had to see to his business. “Very well,” he said, eyeing his losing pieces. “When I return, I shall challenge you to a rematch.”

“And I shall handily defeat you,” she smiled.

Loki lingered a moment longer, admiring the form of the woman he had come to love. Enjoying her company had been the highlight of this charade, and convinced him he must find a way to prevent her marriage to Thor. He could not stand idly by and watch her wed his brother, nor was he certain she’d wish to once she realized the man she’d come to know was not the man she was to wed. 

A problem for another day, however. Following Einherjar to the parlour, he wondered who had arrived unannounced after nuncheon to see the earl. 

Inside the parlour sat the most beautiful creature Loki’d ever set eyes on, with golden red ringlets softly framing her large, liquid eyes. Her porcelain skin was accentuated by rosy cheeks, and she cut a fine figure, her gown of soft silk clinging almost immodestly, and despite himself, Loki caught his breath.

“Miss Lorelei,” Einherjar said, then promptly abandoned Loki with the temptress.

“My lord,” she purred. “I saw your announcement in the _Gazette_.” 

“Not my announcement, I assure you!”

“Who else has authority to speak on your behalf?” she pouted. “If it’s in the paper, it must be so.” Heaven save us from simpletons, Loki thought. “And your announcement is causing distress, considering our understanding.”

Understanding…? She was not implying Thor had made her an offer! Especially since her demeanor proclaimed her part of the muslin line, and Thor would never disgrace the family name by offering for a mistress.

But even if he had, Loki just told her the announcement wasn’t his!

“Regardless, miss, the announcement was in error,” Loki said firmly. 

“Of course you must say that,” she pouted, clutching her skirt. “It is not proper to claim me, I understand, but it is most uncivil to make promises and break them without so much as a by your leave! I have been desolate with grief, prostrating myself on my bed and watering my pillow with tears! All because you are so unfeeling as to offer for a proper lady while leading me along with promises of sweet nothings. Do I mean nothing to you, my lord? Do our nights of deep passion no longer linger in your memory?”

“Madam!” Loki interjected, feeling hot under the collar. This was more than he ever wanted to know about Thor! “Hold your tongue!”

Unprovoked, she threw herself into his arms, Loki catching her on reflex. “So uncivil!” she cried. “You vowed I made you happier than any who still drew breath! ‘To love you is to die of ecstasy,’ you told me while I--”

She continued to prattle, showering Loki in pretty words, while he attempted not to laugh at her. To love her was to die of ecstasy? Was she mad to put such words in Thor’s mouth? At best he declared her pleasing and left, for Thor was not known for declarations of love or, indeed, any depth of feeling for one who wore skirts! He was far more interested in breeding horses and tasting fine liquor, and he certainly never left a woman with any sort of promise (Sif excepting, though he was in fine form leaving her hanging high and dry). 

Watching the clock on the mantle, Loki clocked Miss Lorelei’s speech at just over ten minutes before she bothered to draw breath, gazing up at him with doe eyes and a pretty mouth poised to accept a kiss. Righting her, he at last drew back, holding close his arms when she made to throw herself back into them. He was beginning to question whether she’d ever been in Thor’s arms, if, after languishing ten minutes in Loki’s, she couldn’t tell a difference. Illusions did not hold up under physical scrutiny, after all, and Loki was far slenderer than his larger brother. 

“I will gladly send you a large parting gift,” he told her, “but either--”

“Parting gift!” she half screeched. “So unfeeling! Surely I am worth more than a pittance!”

He doubted it. “My supposed intended is under this roof,” Loki told her severely. “How did you expect this interview to end? I would not dishonour her!”

“Instead you’d dishonour me!” Miss Lorelei cried, her voice rising with every syllable. “Odious creature, you dishonourable fiend! You stab a knife through my heart, quenching the flame of passion in my breast!”

“Thank God for that,” Loki muttered.

“Wretch!” she shouted, and made to throw herself at Loki once again, but this time he sidestepped and watched her crumple in a heap on the floor. “In a puddle of despair, remorse, and heartbreak, I lie here, ashamed I ever knew you!”

“At last, we are in unison.”

“Rake! Cad!”

The door to the parlour opened and Sif stepped in, all innocence and large eyes. “Beg pardon, my lord,” she said formally, “but I could not help but hear the commotion. May I offer assistance?”

Lorelei leapt to her feet, miraculously cured from her puddle. “The usurper!” she declared, shoving a manicured finger toward Sif. “How dare you intrude on my grief!”

“I apologize for my offence,” Sif said, sounding sincere, but the telltale glint in her eyes said the opposite. “What may I do to make amends?”

“You can relinquish your hold on the earl!” Lorelei announced. “We have been entangled these many months, and he has made me promises that your engagement makes null!”

“What tragedy!” Sif cried. “Thank goodness we are not engaged, thereby safeguarding the promises the earl made.”

The fire died out of Lorelei as she stood straight, her piercing eyes locked firmly onto Sif’s. “What did you say?”

“The earl and I are not engaged,” Sif said. 

Lorelei sniffed. “I do not believe you.”

Loki rolled his eyes. Thor’s taste left much to be desired. “I assure you I speak truth,” Sif said, moving closer to join the party. “I assume you read the announcement in the _Gazette_ , but upon close inspection you will realize it does not announce our engagement. In fact, it says nothing of the kind.”

“But it _implies_ \--”

“Most unfortunately, yes, it does. Implications, however, are not truth, and I assure you, the earl and I are not to be married.”

“The impertinence--”

“In fact,” Sif spoke right over Miss Lorelei, “I can promise you that the earl and I will never marry, as my affections are engaged elsewhere.”

Here now, where did that come from? Loki thought they were getting along famously! It occurred to him for the first time that his affections might not be returned, and Loki wondered how badly he’d bungled their interactions for Sif to give no indication at all that he was barking up an empty tree. 

Miss Lorelei, however, seemed to find great relief in this pronouncement. “Truly?” she cried, rapturous again. 

“Truly,” Sif assured her.

“What a lark! I’ve been giving into the vapours for naught! I am ever so glad I made the journey.”

“As am I,” Sif said lightly. “I find it best to clear the air rather than let the gloom drag on.”

“We are in agreement,” Miss Lorelei cooed.

“And now, if you don’t mind, I have a house full of guests I must see to,” Loki said, attempting to sound regretful. “May I escort you to the door?”

“Of course,” Miss Lorelei purred, her predatory eyes landing on Loki. “Though I do find myself in want of transportation. I travelled here via the post, then took a cab up from the village.” Her eyes turned doleful, reminding Loki of a puppy looking for favour from its master. He had no doubt she’d left the cab unpaid, and the driver was undoubtedly out front awaiting coin. Well, it would serve Thor right for not taking care of his business before disappearing if his coffers had to be used for the transport of his bit of muslin!

Escorting Miss Lorelei out of the house, Loki paid the driver still waiting there, adding an extra fee to see Lorelei safely deposited on the first coach out. “Don’t be a stranger,” she said coyly, batting her lashes. 

“The earl will certainly be in touch,” Loki said, washing his hands of Thor’s dirty laundry. 

“I look forward to it,” Miss Lorelei purred, running her hand down his arm. Loki quickly bowed to hide his shudder.

He waited till the cab was out of sight before retreating back to the parlour in search of Sif. He was in need of an explanation for her behaviour!

She waited where he left her, sitting delicately on the couch. She smiled as he entered. “That was not the adventure I expected today,” she said, smiling at him.

“What do you mean, your affections are engaged elsewhere?” Loki demanded, subtlety be damned. “I thought we were getting along famously!”

“I had to say something,” Sif said, seemingly unperturbed, “as the good woman was clearly not having it that I have no interest in marrying your brother.”

It took a moment for her words to penetrate, but when they did, a slow smile overtook Loki’s lips and he dropped his illusion, free to be himself for the first time since this farce began. “You know!” he cried, delighted. “I knew you were clever. But tell me, what gave me away?”

“Thor and I are old friends--we met in the training yards while you were away at University, studying magic. That’s why he offered for me; better to be wed to a friend than a stranger, even if we could never love each other. I was determined to cry off when you arrived for the dinner party at my father’s house, but lacked an opportunity to speak with you about it. Over the course of the evening I found you much altered, but could not ascertain why until I arrived here. Our interview in the garden proved most illuminating, as you repeatedly called me Lady Sif, which Thor has not done since the first days of our acquaintance, and you engaged so well in verbal sparring, which is not Thor’s strength. I shared my suspicions with Volstagg, who agreed immediately due to your wince when he clapped you on the shoulder.”

“I did not wince!” Loki said, aghast.

“He claims you did! And what more, being so intimate with Thor himself, he knew from minimal interaction with you that it was not his friend he was speaking to.”

“And neither of you outed me.”

“I desired to make your acquaintance, and figured keeping your secret was the fastest way to do so. You answered my queries so honestly, and I didn’t want that to end.”

That may have been the greatest insult ever bequeathed upon Loki, though the offense was unintended. He prided himself on guarding his tongue, replacing honesty with speculation and jest. Clearly playing Thor was bad for his character--except the look Sif was giving him made him think this might play to his benefit after all. “Sif, dearest Sif,” he said, collecting her hands as he drew her up, and her soft smile told him they were of one mind on this, “when you say your affections are engaged elsewhere, please say you mean they are engaged with me!”

“That would be awfully forward of me!” Sif declared, her eyes twinkling. “The audacity!”

“Delightful wretch,” Loki said, then pulled her forward to capture her lips with his. She didn’t even pretend to fight him, becoming soft and pliant in his arms. 

At length he drew back, admiring the woman in front of him. “I’d offer for you immediately, but there is some family business that must be seen to first.”

“I never formally accepted Thor,” Sif reminded him, “and no true announcement has been made, regardless of what my inconsiderate stepmother published in the _Gazette_!”

Loki waved that concern away. “Easy enough to address, for we shall have good news to announce, if not the sort the ton is expecting! I’m more concerned with how this will affect Thor coming into his inheritance.”

“Is he so desperately in need of his fortune?”

Loki eyed her speculatively. “He did not share with you the full reasoning behind his offer?”

“He needs access to his principal, though what for, he never would confess. Is it something nefarious? Most unfortunate for him, but I would enjoy a good laugh at his expense.”

“As would I, but this would be at Mother’s expense, not his.”

That silenced Sif a moment as she weighed his words. Loki led her to the couch, at first sitting next to her, then tugging at her until she was ensconced in the circle of his arms. Much better. As if to punctuate the point, she nestled in closer until her head was resting just over his heart, which was thumping rather forcefully. Imitating Thor was the best decision he’d ever made. “I tell you this in the strictest confidence,” he started.

“I will take it to my grave,” Sif promised. 

“Mother is steeply in debt, and it will take more than Asgard’s income to pay off her creditors.”

She made a sound of understanding. “Which is why he offered for me,” she explained to herself, “since he needs a somber marriage to access his funds. He explained that bit to me, at least, for he needed a compelling reason to justify his offer. I know he did not develop a tendre for me overnight, so an explanation was necessary. Oh, Loki--I may call you that, mayn’t I? At least, when we are alone?”

“Considering I just kissed you in my brother’s parlour, you are welcome to the liberty!”

“I would address you so in public, too, but, well,” and Sif waved a hand over Loki’s person to indicate the illusion he was not currently sporting. “Soon enough.” She paused, then rotated in Loki’s arms so they were face to face. “Why are you playacting as your brother?”

“He’s missing,” Loki said, for once not at all regretting that fact. “Mother talked me into it; I was content to let Thor lie in his own bed, but she did not think it proper for a special dinner party thrown in his behalf to proceed without the guest of honour. Of course, when I was talked into this madness, I was assured my brother would reappear within a day, bringing an early end to this masquerade.”

“And when he didn’t appear, you chose to relocate to Asgard to prevent further imitating him,” Sif said, filling in the holes. “And then Idunn went and complicated your plan by forcing your mother to extend an invitation to me. Dear Frigga! She should have refused outright!”

“I certainly thought so,” Loki informed her, “but then, we would not be in this comfortable position had you remained in town, so I cannot regret the invitation.”

Turning back around, Sif snuggled into Loki’s embrace. It was bliss. “Is there aught I can do to assist you in finding Thor?”

Loki shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest idea where he is or where to look for him next, so no,” Loki told her. “Unless he’s secretly been corresponding with you, that is, and you can give me a proper location for him.”

“Fresh out of secret correspondence. Many apologies.”

Loki kissed the top of her head. “Forgiven,” he murmured. 

They sat together for another quarter hour, simply enjoying each other’s presence. It was such a relief to wear his own face again! And Sif kept turning her head to observe his countenance, smiling lightly. At least she found him pleasing; that was one burden he could relinquish worrying over. 

At length Sif suggested they find the other members of their party; no need to give rise to salacious rumours. Loki thought the other members of their party could survive just fine without their presence, but he offered no argument, quickly resuming his Thor illusion and leading her back to their long-forgotten game of chess. 

Loki felt he was entering a different world as they rejoined their friends. There was no uncertainty between him and Sif now, and that made the world brighter. Knowing he could reach out and touch her--even if he wouldn’t due to the role he was playing--put a bounce in his step and a smile on his face that made imitating Thor easier. He didn’t mind Mrs Volstagg’s incessant titters, and when Aunt Eir joined them, he tolerated her prattle over vapours and powders with good humour. 

By mutual agreement, they decided not to inform Frigga or Einherjar that Sif was in on the family secret, for it was easier to keep quiet if fewer people knew. That also meant keeping their understanding secret from all around them, a feeling Loki enjoyed immensely. She was his private secret, just the way he preferred things. 

In the afternoon when Aunt Eir retired for her nap, Loki slipped away to the attic to continue his work with transfiguration. Yesterday he’d managed to turn a hunk of wood partially metallic, and he was eager to attempt the process again. If he couldn’t find his brother, it was more and more likely he would have to resort to magic to pay Frigga’s debts. Of course, he’d immediately have to retire to a foreign land to avoid any fallout should his money’s duplicity be discovered, but he didn’t consider that a negative.

Idly, Loki wondered if Heimdall would grant him access to the fortune if he married Sif while wearing Thor’s face, and smiled at the thought.

“What are you thinking that gives you so much pleasure?”

Loki nearly jumped out of his boots at the sound of Sif’s voice. He whirled around to face her, his heart pounding from the scare. “I did not hear you come in!”

“I followed you up,” she said from where she was sitting, running her fingers along an old book she was holding. “I like watching you concentrate. Now tell me, what were you thinking to produce such a smile?”

“How best to appease Heimdall and gain access to the family fortune.” She looked skeptical, so he added, “and wondering what sort of scandal I would cause should I wed you while wearing my brother’s face.”

“What a joke that would be!” Sif laughed. “Heimdall would not appreciate the prank. I should not be surprised if he retroactively took back the principal.” She said this with such fondness, Loki was reminded of the dinner party at Admiral Tyr’s house and how Sif and Heimdall had looked at each other with affection. 

“What is Heimdall to you?” he asked. 

“Far too serious,” she replied, the affection in her voice increasing. “He is far too sober over every aspect of life, which Father considers a boon but I think makes him more miserable than he admits.”

That didn’t clarify their relationship, so Loki tried again, this time attempting to be more blunt. “You love him very much, don’t you?”

“Indeed.” 

Again, no elaboration. Loki sighed. “Does your father not approve?”

“Of Heimdall? He approves very much! Father has never been so stuffy as to discount industry and profession. Being in the navy, he appreciates hard work and opportunities for a young man to prove himself, and is much pleased with Heimdall’s decision to be a solicitor.”

“If your father approves of him, and you care very deeply for him, what is holding the pair of you back?”

Confusion tinged Sif’s voice as she asked, “From what?”

She really was going to make him say it, wasn’t she? “From marriage!”

Sif looked troubled by his words, but then her face cleared and she laughed. “Marriage to _Heimdall_? Did you not know he is my brother? Half brother, that is, through Mother. Father was her second marriage, and she only accepted his offer contingent upon him welcoming her son into the family. Father is quite fond of Heimdall, and proud of his accomplishments!”

_Brother_. The word came with such relief Loki could only sag against his workbench. 

“Dearest, you haven’t been worried all this time that my affections were engaged elsewhere, were you?” she asked in a teasing tone.

“Honestly, no,” Loki replied, “for I had entirely forgotten about his existence with regards to you until this moment, but once it was brought to the forefront of my mind, it was all I could think about. I am glad to know I don’t have to call him out, for I would not let you go easily!” 

Sif stood up and came closer, peering over Loki’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Attempting an alternate solution to Mother’s problems.” He gestured at his discarded attempts. “Clearly, I am wildly successful.”

“I suppose this should be shocking,” Sif said, reaching out to touch a half metal, half wood blob, “but I mostly find it practical. Though I’m sure Frigga would be properly horrified.”

“Which is why she shall remain in the dark. How fare you with magic?”

Sif returned her hand to her side, a slight smile gracing her lips. “I am slightly more useless than your brother. Magic has never been where my talents lie.”

Steepling his long fingers, Loki said speculatively, “I have yet to see a demonstration of your supposed prowess. I do believe a duel is called for.”

“With you?” she asked, appraising his person and clearly finding him lacking.

“I think Volstagg will make a more appropriate opponent. Come, let’s have a demonstration.”

Volstagg was game, so fencing foils were found, and they retreated to the stableyard to put on a show. It was beautiful to watch; Sif hadn’t exaggerated her skill, moving with the fluid grace of water, twining around Volstagg who was not so light on his feet, but landed far heavier blows. Sif was certainly a worthy opponent, but in the end Volstagg claimed victory, though by a narrow margin. A new thought sprang into Loki’s mind: if this business with Malekith came to blows, at least he’d have an excellent second at his side. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read, given kudos, or commented--y'all are the best.

Two days after Sif and Loki declared their love for each other, as he retired to bed, Loki was greeted at his bedroom door by a pleasant Einherjar. The slight crinkle around the eyes and near-uptick of the corners of his mouth showed the same amount of joy as Volstagg laughing boisterously. Curious as to what could make the stoic man almost affable, Loki let him in while he tugged off his cravat.

“What’s buttered your bread?” Loki asked, casually wondering if Thor would notice if all of his cravats were replaced with ones edged in lace. 

“Master Thor has returned to us.”

Dropping the cravat, Loki whirled to face his happy butler. “What?” he demanded. “You aren’t funning me, are you? Of course you aren’t--I don’t think you’ve ever told a joke. Well, man, where is he? Clearly not in his room, as I am standing in it. Is he in mine? How did he get there? Why wasn’t I informed the moment he arrived? No, don’t waste time answering my queries, just lead me to him!”

Without a word but with a jaunty air, Einherjar led Loki out of the house and to the unused dower house. Frigga had offered to live there after Odin’s passing, but Thor vehemently refused, declaring his mother was always welcome in his home, wife or no wife. Frigga had been pleased, having no desire to move out of what was once her house.

It had seemed a good idea at the time, but with Frigga set up in the main house and the dower house left empty, there was no good excuse for lights to be on in the dower house. 

Loki shook his head; he was thinking as if Thor needed to remain in hiding while Loki continued playing a role, but with Thor returned, Loki could easily drop his illusion and return to being himself, claiming he had arrived in the dead of night. Thor could retake his place as master of the house, and Loki could set about courting Sif as himself. With how taken with each other they were, Loki could easily claim it had been love at first sight, allowing him to steal her away from Thor. Of course, that didn’t address Thor’s need to have a respectable bride, which was the root of this entire farce. 

Again, he shook his head; he was getting ahead of himself. Reunite with Thor first, then together concoct a plan. 

Inside the dower house, Thor was in the sitting room, lounging on a green paisley chaise. His whole face smiled when he spotted Loki. “Brother!” Thor called, so jovially Loki almost forgot he’d been irritated with Thor the last few weeks.

Almost.

After embracing Thor, Loki pulled back and landed a facer. Thor’s left hand flew up to clutch at his nose, and Loki finally noticed his right was in a sling. “By the Norns,” Thor cursed. “How foxed are you that you consider planting a facer a civil greeting?”

“Not foxed in the slightest,” Loki said. “Where have you been? And how did you know to greet me in secret?”

“Einherjar, find me something for this black eye my cad of a brother just gave me,” Thor said. 

“Absolutely deserved,” Loki said.

“Thunder and turf, but I think not!”

“After the weeks I’ve had imitating you? It most certainly is! I had to act as you to the face of some of your most intimate friends!”

“And hoaxed them all successfully, I’m sure!”

Loki snorted. “No.”

“No?”

“No. I’ll tell you all about it, but first sit and tell me where _you_ ’ve been. Mother has been excessively worried!”

Resuming his position on the chaise, Thor stretched out and massaged his swelling face. “That’s quite a bruiser you landed,” he complained. “You’ve interrupted my pretty face.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “You’ll survive. Now tell me, where have you been?”

Thor grinned. “It’s quite the tale! But first, how much do you know of the circumstances surrounding my departure from town?”

“Mother caught me up about her debts, Dromi, Malekith, and your need for a somber wife.”

Thor lost his grin, replacing it instead with calf eyes. “Loki, I’m in love,” he announced.

Instant jealously flashed through Loki; he would challenge his brother to a duel of pistols, for he was not above calling Thor out. “Offer or no offer, you cannot have Sif,” he said, a trifle rudely.

Thor snapped back into focus. “Sif? Who said anything about Sif?”

This gave Loki pause as he assessed his brother’s state. “Are you dicked in the nob?” he demanded. “I didn’t hit you that hard!”

“I remember who she is, of course, but I’m not in love with her! I doubt she’ll be upset when I rescind my offer; she wasn’t thrilled over it in the first place, you know, only accepting so she could escape from her stepmother’s house. If anything, me crying off will be a relief! We never made a formal announcement, so her reputation won’t be affected.” He paused, then frowned. “Well, we hadn’t made a formal announcement, until I saw your announcement in the _Gazette_ , which is how I knew you’d come home. Loki, whatever possessed you to post such a thing!” 

“We’ll get to that,” Loki said dryly. “Tell me first what happened to you,” and he gestured to Thor’s arm.

“This is hardly the worst of it, only the most visible!” Thor said, waving his arm. “For you see, I’ve been run over.”

Loki blinked once, twice, and again. “Run over?” he clarified.

“Run over!”

“By the Norns, you are the worst storyteller.”

Thor launched into his tale, the first part of which Loki was familiar with. New information wasn’t provided for several minutes, when at last Thor touched on arriving at Asgard in pursuit of Malekith. “The trail went cold,” he confessed, “and I didn’t want to spend the night in the open, so I stopped by home. When I awoke in the morning, I realized I didn’t have the foggiest clue where Malekith was, and to chase him all over the country with no guarantee as to his whereabouts was a colossal waste of time.

“So I took the phaeton out to clear my head, and when that didn’t work, I unhitched Mjolnir and took him for a ride. I don’t know how many miles I rode before pulling off at an inn and stabling Mjolnir while I supped. I rented a room, then took a walk, trying to calculate how long I had to chase the man before I needed to return to town for my dinner with the admiral--thanks for that, by the way. Einherjar informed me that you took my place.

“While I was out walking, I had the great fortune, or misfortune, to be in the path of a student of the carriage, a Miss Jane Foster. She lost control of her horses, and I was in the way, so she mowed me down without so much as a warning! It was the worst pain I’d ever felt, Loki. You jest about me being dicked in the nob, but I very much was! I was concussed so badly I couldn’t even remember my name. Miss Foster didn’t know what to do, so she took me to the house she and her partners have let, and called for a doctor.”

Loki couldn’t contain his laughter; only Thor would go out for a ride and end up in the sickbed! “Was this woman an old hag, or a youthful angel sent from heaven?”

“Angel,” Thor said, a tad dreamily. Loki had heard this tone from him before, though it had been years since his brother spoke of a woman with such revered words. “She’s a scientist, you know, studying the stars with her colleagues. She’s very clever, and almost makes me wish I’d paid more attention to my studies. You’ll like her, Loki. She’s very studious, much like you.” 

“And _you_ fancy her?” Loki asked, disbelieving.

“No, I love her,” Thor answered unashamedly. “I have to make things right with Sif so I may properly court Jane.”

“Slow down, Thor and tell how this came about.”

The dreamy smile was back; Loki was torn between amusement and disgust. To feel passionate love was one thing, but to show it to others? Unsightly! 

“After Jane ran me down and relocated me to her house, she and her colleagues nursed me back to health. It wasn’t just a concussion; I had many bruises and a broken arm,” he waved his sling to punctuate his point, “and I was in dire need of convalescence. 

“It took a few days for my wits to return enough to remember who I was, at which point I was loathe to tell Jane, for she was such a companionable nurse and spoke to me so informally that I didn’t want to discover if she was of the toad-eating variety, so I lied and claimed my brains were still mixed up. She knew I was cutting shams, but said nothing. I thought she was just being sweet, but then I discovered she fancies me, too, and didn’t want a difference in station to interfere with our acquaintance.”

“Did it never occur to you to write and let Mother know you weren’t dead? She’s been beside herself with worry!” Loki interrupted. 

Thor scoffed. “That’s the second time you’ve tried that lie! Mother may have been a bit worried, but hardly enough to sour her tea. I’ve been absent longer stretches; I’m sure she was confident I’d return soon enough! It’s you who were worried, admit it.”

“Irritated is more like. It’s not easy being Thor!”

“And besides,” Thor continued, pointedly ignoring the jab, “I’m incapacitated. I can’t write.” He again waved his broken arm, and Loki rolled his eyes. 

“Make your angel be your scribe.”

“And have her learn who I truly am? I think not!”

“Your affair can’t be that serious if you won’t trust her with your identity.”

“Says the world-class liar.”

“My lady love knows exactly who I am.”

That gave Thor pause. “ _Your_ lady love? Behold, hath the mighty Loki fallen and admitted he is capable of having a feeling?”

“Only the one,” Loki said dryly. “Tell me: does your Jane Foster still remain in the dark as to your identity?”

Thor grinned broadly. “No. She is now in possession of all the pertinent facts, thanks to your little advert in the _Gazette_.”

“ _Not_ my advert,” Loki groused. 

“So you say. Either way, Jane’s assistant, Miss Darcy Lewis, saw it and squealed for a solid five minutes about the earl being in residence, so wouldn’t now be an excellent time to tour Asgard? Upon hearing the news, I immediately knew you were up to old tricks and demanded aloud to know what in the blue blazes you were thinking, so Miss Lewis corrected me that the earl was named Thor, not Loki, to which I said I was certain you’d adopted my name or else no one would believe your illusion, which lead to a thunderous silence as Jane judged me upside down and sideways without saying a word, and then the whole of it came out. Miss Lewis about passed out on the spot, and I thought for certain Jane would kick me to the highway over the whole Sif issue, but she has more steel in her than in the whole of my armoury, so after some pretty words and quick explaining, she let go of the issue.”

“Pretty words? Quick explaining?” Loki said. “ _You_? Sooner the sun rise blue than you string together a coherent and logical sentence!”

Light pink dusted Thor’s cheeks as he admitted, “I may have kissed her. It was very persuasive.”

Loki hooted. “Gave it the old Thor charm, eh? No female can withstand that!”

Unexpectedly, Thor glared. “Mind your tongue,” he said harshly. “I won’t have Jane ridiculed in my presence.”

Thor’s response was shocking, for usually he was first to join in the fun, never taking his affaires too seriously. “By the Norns, you’re actually serious about this one,” Loki said. “You’ve actually fallen in love!”

Thor looked at him anxiously. “You don’t think Sif will mind, do you? She wasn’t exactly keen on our match, but it’s sore of me to cry off without giving her a chance.”

“Oh, I don’t think she’ll mind in the slightest,” Loki said, and took his turn explaining what had happened in Thor’s absence. He left out the misunderstanding about Heimdall, but otherwise gave a more or less accurate account of events. Thor laughed uproariously at Sif seeing through the masquerade, declaring her a fit match for his brother. 

He was less enthusiastic about Fandral and his horse. “I’m trying to pay off Mother’s debts, not acquire more of my own!” he scolded. “I’ve been putting that knave off for months.”

“Then you should have been here to continue putting him off,” Loki said rudely. “Looking like you is as easy as breathing, but acting like you is an entirely different skill set I haven’t perfected. Be grateful Fandral didn’t see right through me and announce my duplicity to the admiral! It would have put an immediate end to Heimdall considering releasing your principal early, and I doubt he would forgive the slight to his sister!”

“That concerns me still,” Thor confessed. “Jane is more sober than Sif, but I fear Heimdall won’t accept any bride as suitable once I spurn his sister. Mother needs help now, not in five years when I attain father’s ridiculous age of suitability!”

Tapping his chin, Loki said slowly, “I may have an alternate solution, and no, I won’t share it for you surely wouldn’t approve!”

Thor attempted to wheedle it out of Loki, but he held fast in his determination to not let Thor know of his increasingly successful attempts at transfiguration. The hour grew late, and Loki sent Thor to bed with the promise of sending Frigga over to greet him in the morning under the guise of inspecting the dower house. After all, with a prospective daughter-in-law in residence, it made sense for her to rethink retiring out of the main house, even if in reality Thor would never make her go.

As Einherjar helped Thor hobble out of the room, Loki remembered two last things he hadn’t mentioned. “Your bailiff is swindling you,” he said, making brief explanation of the evidence he’d compiled. 

“Wretch,” Thor said. “I thought he was excellent at his job! Once this mess with Mother is cleared up, I’ll see to it and probably let him go without a character.” He caught Einherjar’s disapproving eye. “With a character?” Thor said uncertainly, but that did not alleviate Einherjar’s disapproval. “I’ll do what I want, since I am master here!” Thor said forcefully, but Einherjar’s countenance did not change. “What’s the second thing, brother?” Thor asked, turning away from the disapproving butler. 

“You really need to do something about Miss Lorelei,” Loki said. 

“I can't believe Lorelei came to the house,” Thor said. “The impertinence!”

“Yes, well, she was quite beside herself over the near-engagement, and only Sif’s declaration that she had no feelings whatsoever for you would convince Miss Lorelei to leave. You’d best get rid of her before you bring Miss Foster to meet the family.”

“I’ll send her a sizeable parting gift,” Thor said dismissively. “Money is all she wants anyway; her affections are hardly engaged with me!” 

“I don’t care what you do, so long as I don’t have to do it for you!” Loki replied, and the brothers bid each other good night.

*

In the morning, Loki awoke early, dressed, and made certain he was in the breakfast room first so he could catch Frigga as soon as she entered. He knew it was foolish to expect her before the sun was high in the sky, but he was eager to speak with her and didn’t want to risk missing her. He absentmindedly greeted the Volstaggs as they entered and nodded at Aunt Eir, who promptly started informing him the drafts in his house caused consumption and he should consider a remodel. 

Sif entered in fine form, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed. “You missed our morning ride,” she chided him, scooping bacon and kidney pie onto her plate. “I felt properly abandoned.”

“It completely slipped my mind,” Loki said honestly. He’d been so preoccupied with Thor’s return and informing his mother that he hadn’t spared a thought for his beloved. 

“Is everything all right?” Sif asked quietly, peering at his face. “Your countenance looks tense.”

“Does it?” Loki asked, suddenly amused. He could easily illusion himself in a relaxed state, and usually did, but was so preoccupied he hadn’t been aware his facade matched his true emotions. With a blink of his eyes he adjusted the illusion. “Everything is fine,” he assured Sif. “Just a bit of business I’ll tell you about as soon as I may. It’s nothing to be alarmed over, simply private until I speak with Mother.”

A speculative light entered Sif’s eyes, but all she said was, “I heard Einherjar say she had a touch of the headache and wouldn’t be joining us in the breakfast room.”

Of course. The one day he actually needed his mother. “Beg pardon,” he said, standing up. “I’d best see to her.”

“Are you off to see your mother?” Aunt Eir demanded, banging her cane on the floor. “A touch of the headache, I hear! You should call for a doctor, Allfather, and have her leeched right away. Leeching has cured every headache I’ve ever had.”

“I bow to your superior advice,” Loki said as he walked through the doorway, lest he get caught in another of Aunt Eir’s lectures on the benefits of leeching. 

Upstairs Mother’s abigail barred entry to her room. “Her ladyship is resting and mustn’t be disturbed,” she said, crossing her arms. 

Loki picked her up and set her aside. “I’m sure she’ll forgive me,” he said, entering the room amidst the woman’s squawks. Inside, the drapes were drawn, a lone candle providing the only light. Frigga lay in bed, her arm draped over her eyes. “Mother?”

“I do believe I’m dying,” she said.

Loki rolled his eyes. “A bit of the headache has never done anyone in.”

“I don’t have a headache,” Frigga said. “I was pondering your situation and the situation with your brother, and wondered how I would let Odin know, were he alive. It struck me how much of a disappointment I must be, and what a burden I am to my sons, and now I’m convinced death is my only avenue.”

More than once as a child Odin had declared Loki an impossibility, wondering where precisely his dramatics came from. Moments like this let Loki know precisely where his flair for the dramatics came from, and reminded him how little Father knew of Mother. “Burden or not, get up,” he said crossly. “I haven’t the time for a fit. Thor is in the dower house and very much wants to see you, and the three of us have plans to make.”

Frigga flung her arm off her face, sitting up in a hurry. “Thor’s home!” she cried joyously. “My darling boy! I told you he wasn’t in a bit of danger, and now he’s here to confirm my theory! Come, let’s go--oh dear, I need to dress. Call for--no, don’t call for anyone, I just complained of having the headache. Stand aside, my son, and let me dress so we may see Thor!”

With an amused smile Loki slipped out of her room, waiting in the hall for her to finish her toilette. Frigga didn’t take long, wearing a simple muslin dress with a spring pelisse thrown over. Despite the lack of a maid, her hair still managed to look flawless. Loki kissed her cheek. “You look stunning, Mama.”

“Thank you, my little toady. Now lead on!”

They slipped down the backstair and out through the servant’s entrance, then crept across the garden to the dower house. 

Inside, Thor was lazing on the settee, making calf eyes at the ceiling. “Thor, my child!” Frigga cried, rushing to him and gathering him in a motherly embrace, which Thor returned enthusiastically. “When did you get in? You should have come straight to see me!”

“It was late, Mother, and you like your beauty sleep,” Thor said, pulling back from her embrace. “What’s with all the fuss? I haven’t been gone long enough to garner this reaction!”

“You left without a word, and Loki put tales into my head of your demise.”

“Liar,” Loki coughed into his sleeve. 

“Demise!” Thor hooted. “He wishes, for that’s the only way he’ll get access to the family fortune.” Thor said it with a grin, but Loki was reminded of the many times Odin had declared just that, without an ounce of jest and an accompanying disappointed frown. Why Loki was the disappointment, he never knew, considering Thor didn’t have an ounce of responsibility in his bones. 

Loki took the backseat and sat on a well-stuffed armchair while Thor explained to Frigga his whereabouts. She cooed and gasped at the appropriate moments, and peppered Thor with questions over the maiden who had stolen his heart. She didn’t spare a thought for Sif, which to a casual observer might appear heartless, but which Loki knew meant she’d paid entirely too close attention to his relationship with Lady Sif. Good to know he still couldn’t fool his mother.

When at last the retelling was exhausted, Frigga asked, “What are we to do? You cannot stay in this dusty house, with furniture covered in holland sheets and no help, but if you return to the house, the differences between Loki and yourself will immediately become apparent. We can tell Aunt Eir you hit your head, which will explain any difference, but the rest of our guests will surely see through our sham!”

“They already have, Mother,” Loki spoke for the first time in an hour. “Sif and Volstagg sussed the situation almost from the beginning, yet said nothing. I don’t know about Mrs Volstagg--”

“She’s trustworthy,” Thor interjected. “She’ll keep quiet--if Volsty hasn’t already told her, that is.”

_Volsty_? With stupid nicknames like that floating about, Loki had never stood a chance of conning Thor’s friends. Now he just felt stupid for the attempt.

“I must also apologize to Sif, for I must rescind my offer.”

“Oh, she won’t care,” Frigga said gaily. “She never much cared for you, you know, and was most relieved to discover Loki in your place.” Both sons turned to stare at Frigga. She laughed lightly. “I have eyes, my sons, and they saw hers trailing after Loki everywhere he went, which she never did when Thor was playing himself.”

“We have a much larger concern,” Loki reminded the party. “With Sif no longer to wed Thor, I doubt Heimdall will loosen the purse strings, no matter how wonderful you claim Miss Foster is, brother. How are we to pay off Mother’s creditors? And what about Malekith? Unless he is a complete fool, for which an argument could be made, by now he must have discovered Dromi is a copy.”

“I’ve thought on that,” Frigga said, “and we need not worry about him. He’ll certainly make a grand attempt to ruin the family reputation, but Thor’s already done an excellent job of it for him, and we’re still considered polite company.”

“Mother!” Thor exclaimed, while Loki laughed. 

“Try and deny it, my child.”

Thor spent a few minutes trying to defend his honour, but Loki and Frigga combined had enough stories to silence him, so he finally gave up. “Don’t share all those details with Jane,” he said wearily. “She’s already not certain what to think of an earl, and I’m trying to convince her I’m prime beef on the marriage mart.”

“I promise not to _intentionally_ scare her off,” Loki intoned.

Time was then devoted to solving Frigga’s debts, but no solution was immediately forthcoming. Loki did not want to mention his forged coin in case he could not successfully create it, and also because he was certain his more honest family members would heartily disapprove. As the conversation dragged, he started itching to return to his attic workspace. He had a problem to solve. 

In the end, they agreed to sneak Loki back into the house and sequester him away in the attic until tomorrow, at which point Thor would enter the house as himself and Loki would join him as himself, putting forth the story that Thor had hit his head--which wasn’t even a lie, to Loki’s satisfaction--and claim Loki had met him on the road. Then they would act as if nothing were unusual.

As for Frigga’s debts, Thor wished to introduce Heimdall to Jane and hope for the man’s goodwill in deciding she was a sobering influence. Loki held out little hope there; he fully expected Heimdall to be insulted at Thor crying off, and more insulted that Sif was being pawned off on the younger, less wealthy brother, whom he liked even less than he liked Thor. 

That made counterfeiting coin all the more pressing, so Loki was happy to sneak back into his workspace with a dedicated, uninterrupted day devoted to solving his family’s problems.

*

It was well after midnight, but Loki finally achieved success. “Eureka,” he whispered, holding a perfect gold coin in the palm of his hand. Reaching for the tray of food Einherjar had brought up at some point, his fingers danced around the tray, collecting the remaining crumbs. 

He’d mastered the transfiguration sometime before ten, then spent the next several hours working on mastering the engravings that would declare it coin of the realm, for those were the telltale signs that would give his currency authenticity. Rolling the coin between his fingers, Loki could not tell it from the coin he’d used as a master. 

The real test would come the next day when he took his blunt into town and spent it, for merchants were fastidious in their search for counterfeit. 

Leaning back in his chair, he rolled his shoulders. How long had he been hunched over? It felt good to stretch and devote a moment’s thought to the comfort of his body. Which reminded him he was sleeping on a pallet on the floor. He hated pallets. Half the purpose of returning home was to sleep in the comfort of a feather bed, for he spent enough nights on the road sleeping on the ground, making him appreciate the luxury of home. 

He wondered where Sif was and how she had spent her day. Had she missed him? Was she even now regretting her confession of love? Of course not; she was not so fickle as that. But he wondered, and he worried. 

It was one thing to admit admiration for Loki when he was the only Odinson around, but when faced with Thor, would she regret transferring her affections and demand Thor renew his suit? Thor was, after all, a superior specimen of manhood. He cut a fine figure, held vast amounts of wealth, and was the earl of Asgard. If Loki were female, he’d certainly attempt to curry favour with Thor. In comparison, Loki held little wealth, only a small house bequeathed to him out of the family holdings, and while he thought he was devilishly handsome, he knew his darker colouring was held to disadvantage against Thor’s blonde locks. 

He shook his head; he was being unjust toward Sif. If she had truly preferred Thor, she would have immediately exposed Loki’s masquerade, and she never would have expressed doubt about marrying him. 

Loki missed her. Spending a day apart was a terrible idea, and he would thank Thor to never put him in that situation again.

Toeing off his boots, Loki curled up on the pallet and fell asleep without even pulling up the blanket.

A scant few hours later, Thor shook him awake. “I need breakfast and I can’t eat without you,” he said impatiently while Loki tried to blink away sleep. 

“Go die in a hole,” Loki mumbled, rolling over.

“Tried that; fell in love instead. Get up, brother!” He shook Loki more vigorously so sleep could do naught but elude him.

“I rather despise you, you lumbering oaf,” Loki said, sitting up. 

“So long as you despise me in the breakfast room,” Thor replied cheerfully, pulling Loki to his feet. 

Not only were there no other persons in the breakfast room, but the covers had yet to be laid. “I definitely hate you,” Loki muttered, slumping against the table. “Wake me when Cook sends something up.”

When Loki again woke, the entirety of his household was sitting at the table, eating contentedly and happily chatting with Thor. Aunt Eir was waxing lengthy about the proper way to set bones, but her audience had long since turned to other affairs, so she was the first to notice Loki’s open eyes. “Well, it’s about time,” she said, poking him under the table with her cane. “It’s disgraceful to sleep at the breakfast table. Beds were invented for sleep, and listening to you snore does nothing to aid with digestion!”

Grateful he could act as himself, Loki said snidely, “My snoring was more melodious than your inane prattling.”

“I declare, you odious creature! I did not miss your presence!”

Something sharp jabbed him in the side, so Loki turned to spy Sif sitting next to him. Her raised brows reminded him to mind his manners. “Beg pardon, Aunt. I slept little last night, and your host dragged me out of bed just after dawn. No idea why; I slept through his explanation.”

“Horrid business, Thor’s fall,” Aunt Eir said. “A constitutional is only good for the health if one remains upright!”

“He did hit his head rather hard,” Sif said pleasantly. “We are all grateful he did not sustain greater damage.”

“This one could benefit from a hit to the head,” Aunt Eir muttered, jabbing her spoon at Loki. He bared his teeth at her and went to collect a plate before he said something else rude.

Sif joined him at the sidebar. “You don’t snore.”

“I know,” he said shortly.

“You’re a delight on little sleep,” she noted, returning to her seat. 

Loki sighed. He did not spend the entirety of yesterday alone just to push her away before the sun was high in the sky. Once his plate was full he rejoined Sif at the table; Aunt Eir was thankfully gone. “I sincerely apologize. Thor did not have the decency to wait for an appropriate hour before arriving for breakfast, and given our circumstances, needed me to join him, thereby interrupting the little sleep I did get. But none of that is your fault, and I missed you yesterday, so I’d rather not push you away.”

“I missed you as well,” she said simply.

“I’ve an errand in town this morning; would you care to join me?”

“Because you once again missed our morning ride?”

“Because I want your company.”

The smile that blossomed across her face was brilliant and made Loki’s heart thump.

After breakfasting, they parted ways long enough for Loki to retire to his room to wash up and change, with plans to meet in the foyer in one hour to sojourn to the village. Without thinking, Loki went to Thor’s room, only to be reminded upon entrance that his brother was once again in residence and in possession of his own face--and luggage. Retreating to his own room, Loki was pleased to see Einherjar had already moved his own luggage, mostly untouched since he first arrived in town, and added it to the wardrobe. 

A quick wash and Loki embraced his wardrobe, pleased once again to wear a cravat in any manner other than draping. He took joy in dressing, selecting a dark green coat that set him to advantage and would hopefully please Sif. His boots were freshly polished, his reflection shining in the toe. They’d get muddied on the walk, but he didn’t mind. 

With his clothes artfully arranged, he slipped his newly minted counterfeit coin in his pocket and went to meet Sif.

She greeted him with a smile, and off they set, a servant following to act as chaperone. 

It was a pleasant day for a stroll, and Loki remarked so. “The company makes it even more pleasant,” Sif replied, then launched into a description of the breakfast scene before Loki could reply. 

Apparently Aunt Eir did not question the official story, and everyone else had agreed to keep mum about it. Thor had been so pleased at the transfer of Sif’s affections that he embraced her most improperly, though it only made her laugh. Volstagg, too, had been delighted with this turn of events. “And I spoke with your mother,” she told him. “We agreed a month of courting would be proper before announcing an engagement, which I am certain will please your Miss Lorelei.”

“Not _my_ anything, except maybe annoyance!” he assured her.

In the village, they visited the ribbon shop and the baker, and Loki dropped into the bookstore to pick up a new set of pens. He spent his counterfeit coin at some point, not keeping track of where it went. If it was discovered, he would hear soon enough.

As they shopped, Sif shared with him tales of her childhood, which he returned in kind, though his stories were much more violent as little boys were wont to do battle. Thankfully this did not seem to disturb Sif as she laughed freely, opining about their childish antics. He promised to show her the treehouse Odin had built for him and Thor when they were boys, as it still stood just inside the forest, though he was sure it wouldn’t hold up under their combined adult weight, and she promised to showcase the childhood ditty her governess used to have her perform—“but only when we are alone, for I am not a gifted songbird!” 

On the stroll back to Asgard, Loki told her what little he knew about Jane Foster, which delighted her. “I’m so glad Thor’s found someone he actually cares for,” she said.

“As am I, otherwise he would continue to pursue you,” Loki said, wishing they were completely alone so he could kiss her again. “If only Heimdall would be as pleased.”

“I will write to him, once Miss Foster’s presence has been made public,” Sif promised. “I don’t know if it will do any good, but it certainly can’t hurt.”

The next three weeks at Asgard were some of the happiest in Loki’s memory. He wasn’t at odds with anyone in his family, and Sif responded favourably to every attempt to court her. Even Aunt Eir was palatable; Loki even dared to say he almost enjoyed her company. 

In his spare moments, he slipped away to his attic workspace to increase his supply of coins. Now that he had the process down, transfiguring material was easy enough. It was the engraving that was taking up so much of his time. He was certain there was a spell that could make the process go faster, but he hadn’t the time to devote to it, if he was to have an adequate supply of coin. 

He kept one ear cocked for gossip from the village, but no news of his counterfeit surfaced, and with each new day he grew more confident that this scheme would work, so long as he kept the strictest confidence with himself. Of course, that meant bluffing to Thor, Mother, and Sif about how he was spending his time, but he didn’t let that trifle concern him.

At the end of three weeks he was certain he’d admassed adequate wealth to get Frigga out of the dun territory. All he needed now was a list of her creditors, and he would take care of everything, then promptly relocate to Vanir or Svartalfheim. He supposed he ought to marry Sif before he took off, so he made plans to propose. Three weeks was close enough to a month.

He went to find her, and happened upon Thor, their mother, and a strange young woman sitting together in the Blue Saloon. He supposed he ought to leave them to their private audience, but after spending weeks acting as his brother, he felt no need to leave the man his privacy.

“Good day,” he said brightly, interrupting the uncomfortable silence. “How are the plans for the ball coming along, Mother?”

“We’re having a ball?” Thor asked, perking up.

“Yes,” Frigga said carefully, pointedly not looking at the guest. Loki gave them all a pointed look, letting his eyes trail to the strange woman. 

“Brother, let me introduce you to Jane Foster,” Thor said, indicating the woman who inclined her head. “Jane--Miss Foster--this is my brother, Loki Odinson.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Jane Foster said, and Loki immediately knew the source of the discomfort. Miss Foster was...Midgardian. “Your brother speaks very highly of you.”

“As well he should,” Loki said, trying to avoid Frigga’s eye, lest their distrust of someone from the other side of the pond shine through. “He’s recently discovered that should he mysteriously come to an end, I do a bang-up job of impersonating him and he won’t be missed.”

“He speaks truth,” Thor told her. “That article from the _Gazette_ was about him.”

Miss Foster looked back and forth between the two brothers. “But you two look nothing alike!”

“So say they all,” Loki intoned without further explanation. 

Miss Foster, however, lived up to her clever reputation. “You must be a sorcerer. Illusion, or the power of suggestion?” A gleam entered her eyes. “Tell me, have you ever tried quantifying the effects of your magic? I study astrophysics, in particular the link between magic and interstellar travel, and I’m always keen to find new subjects to aid in understanding the link between the two.”

Loki blinked at her once, then turned to face Thor. “You must be lying. No one as intelligent as that can find you the least bit interesting.”

“Beauty also has a place in the world,” Thor said, and Miss Foster blushed furiously.

“Do be quiet,” she scolded him. “I apologize for dropping in unannounced, but I hadn’t heard from your son, Lady Frigga, and wanted to make certain he arrived home safely.”

“He’s in one piece, my dear,” Frigga said. Thor gave her a pointed look, so she smiled her company smile. “We’re hosting a ball in just a few weeks; could we induce you to join our number? I’ll have a proper invitation sent. I would have done so already, but my son has not provided me with your address.”

“You are most gracious,” Miss Foster said, “but do not feel obligated to extend an invitation simply because your son is rudely implying you should via his charming eyes.”

Frigga laughed, the sound genuine, and Loki tilted his lips upward. “Consider it sincere, my dear,” Frigga said warmly. “A woman who sees through my son’s charms and cares for him anyway is always welcome in my home.”

Which reminded Loki he was on a mission. “Excuse me,” he murmured, and made to slip out of the room.

“She’s in the garden,” Thor said, sending a lascivious wink Loki’s way. He rolled his eyes. 

“Thank you, o lord of subtlety.” Thor grinned in response. 

True to his brother’s word, Loki found Sif meandering about the garden. He paused a moment to admire the scene, as her figure was set to advantage in the afternoon light. She must have sensed his eyes on her, for she turned toward him and lifted her hand in greeting. 

Hurrying down the stairs, Loki made his way to Sif, keeping a keen eye peeled for observers. He saw none, so when he reached Sif he pulled her close and kissed her. She made a small murmur of agreement. 

It wasn’t lengthy, as Loki couldn’t predict when a casual passerby would approach, but it did remind him how much he wanted to marry her so this could be a daily occurrence. “Marry me,” he whispered. 

“If I must.” He drew back, and they shared a smile.

“I mean it, body and soul. Marry me, Sif. Today.”

“Today?” asked, amused. “Are you going to whisk me off to Nidavellir for a secret ceremony?”

He raised his right hand, making the air shimmer. He could whisk her away easily enough, though he wasn’t certain anyone in either family would ever forgive them for eloping. “I could whisk you away in the blink of an eye,” he murmured, casting a shower of sparkles about Sif. “I would walk you down a carpet of rainbow roses and wed you under starlight, then love you as no man has ever loved a woman. ‘Pon my word, you’d be happy all the remainder of your days, never once living to regret your choice.”

Sif took a hurried step back, cheeks flushed. “Stop that,” she hissed, fanning herself, “lest we give into our passions prematurely.”

Loki sent her a smoldering look, hoping she knew he would not mind that outcome one bit. 

When the air between them had cooled, Sif said, “I take it you are ready to read the banns.”

“I considered a special license, but the Archbishop hates me, and pleading our cause would take longer than reading the banns, so yes, I’m ready to have them read.”

They started strolling through the garden, the sun pleasantly warm. “I can send a message to Father immediately,” Sif said, “though I do think it would sit better if I informed him in person. He is anticipating an understanding betwixt myself and your brother, and without me there to give explanation, I fear his response upon discovering I’ve accepted the younger brother. He won’t mind,” she hurried to override Loki’s response, “once he understands this is my choice and I am happy with it. I simply want to make sure that he understands.”

Quickly, Loki ran calculations through his head. To tell the admiral in person meant her leaving, and Town was miles away, add his mission and carry the anticipation… “Very well. We leave in the morning.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “You are being remarkably sanguine.”

“Yes, I am. I wish to be as close to you as possible, which means I cannot return you to Town on your own, therefore I shall accompany you. We shall depart in the morning, the soonest preparations can be made. Mother and Thor won’t mind, and I daresay Einherjar will be pleased to have me out of his hair. Mother will apply to the priest to read our banns here, and you and I will see them read at your church, and we can make any wedding preparations you wish while we are in Town, then promptly be wed and begin our life together.” 

“Which will involve much travel, as you are not content to stay here when there is magic to be discovered,” she wisely observed. 

“Does this bother you?”

She paused at a flowering bush and plucked one of the blooms, carefully tucking it behind Loki’s ear. In a low voice, she said, “If I were to stay home and wait for you, how would I mark my territory when you come across desperate women?”

It was Loki’s turn to flush and back away to maintain their dignity. She gave him a knowing smile. 

“We leave in the morning,” she said lightly, and turned towards the house.

  
  


*

  
  


Admiral Tyr was less than pleased.

“Are you shamming me?” he demanded. His little wife hovered just behind his elbow, lips pursed in displeasure, though whether she was upset at Sif’s seemingly mediocre match or upset that the admiral might prevent Sif from pursuing her engagement and leaving the house, Loki was uncertain. “This is preposterous! An earl offers for you, daughter, and you come home with his _brother_ , the second son?”

“Father--” Sif interjected calmly, but the admiral spoke right over her.

“You were to have a fine house, a grand estate! Allfather may not be the most respectable of individuals, but he isn’t daft and you two get along well enough, or so I thought. When did this lout come between you?”

Lout? It wasn’t even a creative insult, which made it that much more insulting. “Admiral Tyr,” Loki said firmly, but the man wasn’t finished ranting.

“Travelling magician! Sorcerer! You’ll spend all your days abroad, setting foot on Aesir soil but rarely, no doubt spending the entirety of your visits with your husband’s family! What of your old father? Your brother? Your new brother?” Eyes bulged as Loki and Sif turned to look at Idunn, who was blushing prettily, but again, the admiral did not pause long enough for any commentary to occur. “What high dudgeon! This man looks pale and sickly. Has he ever seen the sun, or does he hide out in a cave, waiting for the howl of the werewolf before he emerges under the light of the moon?”

With a roll of her eyes, Sif grabbed Loki’s chin and pulled him down for a brief but searing kiss, leaving him mildly dazed and both her parents gawping like fish. “I like him better,” she said. “We wed as soon as the banns are read.”

Admiral Tyr’s entire countenance transformed from one of rage to one of bliss and, to Loki’s absolute horror, a tear leaked out of one eye. “My darling girl is happy,” the admiral gushed, borderline blubbered, and Loki could only be grateful Sif hadn’t inherited his lack of sensibility. “Idunn, write to the priest! We have banns to be read and a marriage to plan. There must be a ball, and a feast, and we--”

“Father,” Sif said firmly, “it is already handled. We wish to be married in the country at Asgard’s parish. I have been assisting Lady Frigga with planning a ball that we shall repurpose to be our wedding ball, and then, yes, Loki and I shall depart for what may be a lifetime of travel, but which will keep us very happy.”

He paused, suspicious. “And the earl approves?” 

“Most heartily,” Loki assured him. “Grateful, even relieved, I daresay. He’s offered nothing but felicitations for us.”

The admiral narrowed his eyes, reminiscent of his daughter. “Relieved, is he? Thinks he can make a better match than my Siffy?”

“Oh, Father, don’t make a mountain out of this anthill,” Sif said. “I was ready to cry off before I ever met Loki, so really, this is all around a superior situation.”

Idun clapped her little hands together. “So my announcement wasn’t in error!” she gushed. 

Three sets of disapproving eyes turned her way, quelling her excitement. “It was most indecorous of you,” Sif said politely, while Loki snidely said, “You caused unrest where there was none.”

“You brought shame upon this house, is what you did,” Admiral Tyr said harshly. “We are better than to post speculation and assumption.” Loki was pleased to see Lady Tyr’s head droop, and more pleased to know the admiral was of sensible stock. It explained much about Sif’s temperament. 

“Let the banns be read,” Lady Tyr said quietly.

And so they were. 

*

During their stay in Town, Loki was out one morning on a spot of business when he came across none other than Lord Malektih himself. The man’s eyes paused for the briefest of seconds when he spotted Loki, then he sniffed and continued walking as if Loki were no more than a street urchin crying for coin.

Loki well remembered Frigga’s desire to let the matter lie, but this time he disagreed with his mother. If Malekith got it into his head to ruin the family’s reputation, he’d make Thor’s actions look like those of a schoolboy, and Loki would not allow that to happen, especially now that he had a wife of his own to consider. Moving smoothly to intercept the man, Loki easily bullied Malekith into an alley, at which point Loki abandoned subtlety, grabbed Malekith by the collar, and hauled him down the street, well away from the prying eyes of civilsed company.

“Return Dromi to my family’s estate,” Loki said, speaking so softly Malekith had to strain to hear, “and within the week you will receive payment in full on the loan. Refuse at your own peril.”

Lord Malekith’s lips twisted into an unsightly snarl. “Never,” he spat. “I would rather die than aid the family Odinson.”

Leaning forward so his lips were next to Malekith’s ears, Loki whispered, “So be it,” and cast an illusion of unspeakable horrors surrounding Malekith’s head.

Any normal man would be horrified by monsters, war, famine, and disease, but Malekith wasn’t a normal man. Tailoring this illusion to the man’s specific tastes, Loki cast for him a life of endless balls and cotillions, squiring eligible young ladies hither and yon while their mothers plotted their marriages to Lord Malekith. Afternoons were filled with calls, evenings with endless parties amongst the young and insipid, mornings filled with endless streams of visitors. Malekith’s clothes became more and more refined until his costume marked him one of the dandy set. Tears of horror leaked out of the man’s eyes, and Loki smiled in satisfaction.

Dropping the illusion, Loki said softly, “That fate is yours if you refuse my offer.”

“I-i-i-i-i-it’s in my v-vault,” Malekith stumbled over his words in his rush to spit them out. “I’ll ha-have it sent over r-right away.”

“Good boy,” Loki said, patting the man’s head like a dog.

With a whistle and a smile, he continued on his way.

*

It took three weeks for the banns to be properly read in their respective parishes. There were no objections, of course, and Miss Lorelei even dared to pen a note of congratulations, which Sif laughed over and then promptly burned. 

The wedding ceremony was small, immediate family and close friends only, though the entire neighbourhood was invited to the celebratory ball afterward, satisfying Frigga’s desire to throw a grand party. Jane Foster came at Frigga’s invitation, and Thor spent the entirety of the evening mooning after her. Loki would have happily mocked him for dangling after the scientist, but he wasn’t much better as he followed Sif around all evening, making sure she was always close enough to brush his fingers against. He deeply resented every dance where she took a turn with another partner or where the steps led her halfway across the ballroom. He was in a sorry state, and didn’t regret it one bit. 

The wedding night could only be described as absolute bliss. Any other words were lost in the feelings of deep contentment and absolute satisfaction, for no words could adequately describe the perfection of being one. 

In the morning the happy couple breakfasted with the family before leaving for what Frigga termed their wedding tour, but they knew both knew was the start of their life together.

Before they could depart, Einherjar brought in the post. “Letters for you, ma’am,” he said stoically, handing Frigga a small stack of letters. 

“Bless me, but what are these?” she asked, turning the envelopes over and over. 

“I find opening letters to be the only effective way of ascertaining their contents,” Loki said drily, and Frigga shot him a look.

“Marriage has not yet improved your tongue, I see,” she said, breaking the seal of the first letter with an expert flick of her wrist. A line appeared between her eyes as she examined the contents, then quickly opened the accompanying notes, her frown growing deeper.

“What is it, Mother?” Thor asked, alarmed. 

“Yes, do share your distress with us,” Sif urged. 

“My debts,” Frigga said, sounding faint. “They’ve all been paid in full.” 

That was their cue to vacate the house. Loki took one last swig of his drink, then stood, helping Sif to her feet as the family uttered confused exclamations. “Congratulations, Mother,” Loki said, steering his bride toward the door. “I do hope you practice economy from now on! Sif and I are off. Give us a kiss and we’ll be gone.”

The family rose and saw the couple to the door, offering goodbyes intermixed with confusion. With Sif and their luggage firmly in hand, Loki offered one last bit of advice. “Should anyone come ‘round querying about the source of your money, tell them an anonymous benefactor paid off your debts.” And with a blink of the eye, Sif and Loki disappeared, reappearing in the far woods of Vanaheim.

“You wicked creature! What have you done now?” Sif demanded, her tone half amusement, half disapproval. 

“Merely securing the family’s future,” Loki assured her, leaning down to kiss her. “Now, my dear wife, we have a future of our own to discover.”

**  
End


End file.
